The Curse of the Dragon
by Imaginigma
Summary: A trip to Laketown turns into a deadly adventure for Legolas and Aragorn, when an old legend comes forth from the past. SLASH
1. 1 A long expected journey

_THE CURSE OF THE DRAGON_

**Rating: **K+

**Summary: **Spring has entered the lands, and Aragorn and Legolas, freshly fallen in love, decide that it is time that the young ranger visits Lake-town and leard its ways. What starts out as a normal trip turns into a deadly adventure when an old secret comes to the surface. Soon, Aragorn's life is in peril and Legolas has to risk everything to safe the young man.

**Genre/Warning: Aragorn/Legolas slash hurt/comfort story.**

**Disclaimer:** They are not mine and I will never own them.

**A/N:** _This is my very first **SLASH STORY**. -AND- I am in a kind of burned out mood, as someone called it. I had planned to finish this story before posting, but the same someone suggested that I could post it chapter for chapter. I like the idea, as I did this with most of my previous stories. The reviews (there will be reviews, right? -g-) always helped me to develop the story and post faster. -hint hint- So, enough rambling, on to the story. I hope you like it. -looks nervously at readers- Have fun_!

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Chapter 1: A Long Expected Journey

Perched high in the boughs of the trees, the birds ruffled their feathers, tilted their little heads and chirped and twittered to their hearts' delight, greeting the morning sun. Warm rays wound through the trees, sprinkling golden light onto the new born, green leaves. Dew glittered here and there on the grass, and the few elves who returned from their nightly watch breathed in the fresh spring air. The sky was of a clear blue, almost like a pond high up on a mountain, where the waters were icy and unsullied by men, elf or dwarf.

A few of those warm rays filtered through the light curtains, which swayed gently in the breeze. Slowly, the rays wandered over wall, floor and desk, until they reached the comfortable double bed and the two occupants sleeping in it. One of them, a lithe, blond elf, lay on his side, his elbow propped on the bed, holding his head. His hair floated around his face, unbound and free, like a waterfall of spun, sunny rays. A smile played around his lips, while he gazed at the person sleeping so peacefully beside him.

Dark, tousled hair, a stubbly chin, strong cheek and jawbones, with weathered, but not old skin and features. The man was lying on his stomach, his head bedded on one of his arms, while the other had found its way under one of the many pillows. With every rise and fall of the man's chest, his head moved a little, too, and the smile on the face of the elf widened a little. Slowly, the elf's eyes travelled from the sleep relaxed face of the man down his body, taking in the broad shoulders, the muscular arms and the strong back. His gaze came to finally rest at the small of the man's back, and the elf was tempted to reach out and lift the blanket that covered the otherwise naked man to take a look at his behind. It was a strong, perfectly shaped behind, he knew. His smile widened even more when he remembered the last night, and the things they had done which had exhausted the man so much that he was still asleep, long after sunrise.

But suddenly, an almost wicked glimmer reached the elf's eyes. Lifting his head from his hand, he leaned forwards slightly. When his face was only inches away from the man's, he gently pursed his lips and blew, causing the man's hair to lift a fraction, before it fell down again. The man did not stir. His grin widening, the elf blew again, stronger this time. Again the dark curls moved, and this time the human mumbled something under his breath, before he settled again. Once more the elf blew, causing the man to sleepily slap at his face.

Mouth open in a silent laugh, the elf sat up on the bed, trying not to move the mattress too much. It would not do to wake the human now, after all. Stealthy as a cat, the lithe blond elf reached across the sleeping man and plucked a silky white feather from one of the pillows. Still smiling, the elf took the feather between his thumb and forefinger, and ere he could stop himself, he began to gently tease the human's nose with it.

A snort.

Unperturbed, the elf flicked the feather against the nose again, howling with silent laughter. Another, louder snort came from the man, but still he did not wake. Instead, he turned his head to the other side, sighing audibly. The eyes of the elf danced with mischief. Silently, he leaned over the man, letting the tip of the feather caress the man's nose once more. With a sleepy gesture, the human swatted at it, like one would do with a fly, mumbling something under his breath.

Blue eyes sparkling, the elf was just to tickle the man's nose one more time, when he froze mid motion. One of the man's eyes was open, glaring at him darkly. Feelings his cheeks reddening slightly, the elf leaned back on his heels, trying to hide the feather behind his back. The man opened the other eye as well, gazing at the elf.

"And what, pray tell me," he said sleepily, "were you doing?"

"Nothing." The elf said, grinning innocently. The man narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but before he could say more, the elf spread his arms wide, sighing, "Ah, what a wonderful day, Estel. Now, up with you! We are late as it is, sleepy head."

Grumbling, the man rolled onto his back, blinking against the bright light that streamed into the room. "Too early, Legolas. It must be night still and the light comes from the stars."

Laughing good naturally, Legolas shook his head, "Nay, my friend. It is bright daylight you see, and the birds are singing. Get up now ere the day is wasted."

When Aragorn merely groaned, rolling to his side to avoid the bright light, Legolas sighed dramatically. "As you wish." And with one fluid motion he pulled the covers back, exposing the man to the air.

"Legolas!" Aragorn complained, reaching for the covers, but Legolas simply threw them to the ground, grinning. "It is too early yet to get up." Aragorn said, rubbing his eyes. "And Lake-town will still exist, no matter when we get there."

"Aye, but the sooner we get there, the sooner we will be home again." Legolas retorted, gazing at the man.

"One could think you dread going there, Legolas." Aragorn teased his friend, knowing fully well that Legolas feared very few things. And the human settlement Lake-town was not one of them.

"No, I do not dread going there." Legolas said, and there was a strange glimmer in his eyes that Aragorn knew only too well. When the elf leaned forwards, coming closer and closer until his face was only inches from his own, Aragorn felt goose bumps appear on his skin. "But you know," Legolas said, "letting his finger trail slowly down Aragorn's bare skin, "the sooner we are back, the sooner we can enjoy from the soft, plush, clean, smooooooth linens we have here in Mirkwood."

Pronouncing each word with a little push of his finger, Legolas pushed Aragorn down onto the mattress. Straddling the man, who now grinned openly, Legolas tilted his head to the side. "But of course, if rangers enjoy the cold, hard earth of forests, or the creaking beds of the inns in Lake-town…" He pouted minutely, causing Aragorn to laugh outright.

"Enough, Legolas, enough." Aragorn laughed, fully awake now. "I think I see your point."

"I knew you would, with time." Legolas said, leaning down again. "Humans can learn, after all." Grinning, he bent down, cupping the side of the man's face with his slender hand and brushing his lips against Aragorn's. When Aragorn opened his lips slightly, Legolas took up the invitation, and soon they were kissing deeply, longingly, but without haste. Breaking apart, Legolas softly touched Aragorn's bottom lip with his forefinger, tracing the outline from one corner to the other.

The fact that they were both naked was lost on neither of them, and it was already having its effects. Feeling his member harden slowly, Aragorn gazed up at Legolas, who still straddled him. The elf's hair was unbound, like it only was when they were alone together, and it fell around his face in golden tresses. The smooth, hairless body, the strong muscles rippling under the skin, it was enough to make Aragorn's breath catch in his throat. No matter how often he saw Legolas like that, no matter how often the elf allowed him to see him thus, to touch him, feel him, love him…Aragorn thought it a miracle time and time again. And to be loved in return by Legolas….that was something Aragorn would never understand.

"Estel?" Legolas asked, tapping his finger against Aragorn's cheek, smiling gently.

"Huh?" Aragorn made, torn from his thoughts. Slowly, naturally, he let his hands, calloused from the year long use of sword and bow, caress up Legolas's thighs, to rest on the elf's hips.

"You had that expression on your face again." Legolas said, tilting his head to the side. "As if something surprised you." And he reached out, moving his thumb across Aragorn's forehead, as if to chase the expression away.

"It was nothing, Legolas." Smiling, Aragorn sat up slowly, holding Legolas tightly so that the elf would not topple down from him and land very unelflike on the hard stone floor. When they both sat comfortably, Aragorn leaned in for a quick kiss, letting his tongue stroke Legolas's teeth gently for just the fraction of a second. "We really should get going if we want to make any progress today." He said, a look of slight disappointment in his eyes.

"Aye, we should." Legolas said, kissing Aragorn soundly on those red lips that tasted like ale, pipe weed and travels. "And we really have no time for this." He added, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "But, wash we must ere we leave, this way or that, so…" And with that, Legolas kissed Aragorn again, while his hand sneaked between them, searching and finding what it was looking for, and making the man moan in pleasure.

Fastening the last pack on the back of his mare, Aragorn threw a look over his shoulder. Only a few feet away from him, Legolas stroked his horse's nose gently, whispering to it gently. As if the horse understood him, it flicked its ears, neighing softly. Shaking his head and breathing in deeply, Aragorn fastened the last knot, before he patted his own horse on the long neck and took the leather reins from the saddle.

"Ready, Legolas?"

Legolas whispered to his horse a moment longer, before he turned around and flashed a bright smile at the ranger. "Always. I was only waiting for you to finish packing half of our household on that poor mare of yours."

Giving Legolas an annoyed look, Aragorn began walking into the direction of the gates, the heels of his boots clicking softly on the cobble stone courtyard. "I have not packed 'half of your household'." He told the elf indignantly. "Those are the basic provisions every ranger should take with him when leaving on a journey."

Raising an eyebrow skeptically and taking another look at the bulk of packs that threatened to break the poor horse's back, Legolas retorted, "Basic provisions? Basic as in making a quick trip to Lake-town? Or basic as in journeying to Mordor and back?"

Shooting Legolas a minute glare, Aragorn shook his head, "Basic as in: Legolas and Estel journey to a place where there are none of their fathers' guards, no supervisors, no elven healers and no twin brothers to save their behinds." And in his mind he quickly added: and no one hovering over them or watching them or teasing them or mothering them or lecturing them or entering bedrooms without knocking or…

Laughing lightly, Legolas shoved Aragorn playfully with his shoulder, "We are not 'that' bad, mellon nin."

"Oh yes, you two are." A deep voice came from behind them, making them both jump and turn around quickly. So quickly even, that Aragorn lost his footing on the cobble stones for a fraction, swaying dangerously, before he found his balance. When he looked up to the one who had spoken those words, his heart nearly plummeted into his stomach.

There, right in front of them, in the middle of the bright sunshine, stood King Thranduil. The monarch had his hands crossed behind his back and stood as regal as ever. His expression wavered between stone cold and decidedly unfriendly. And when those light blue eyes, that were only a shade darker than Legolas's gazed at him, Aragorn swallowed thickly….and wracked his mind for the fasted way out of Mirkwood. No wonder the spiders of Mirkwood avoided coming near the palace. The look of the King would have scorched them immediately.

But before Aragorn could even register that thought completely, Legolas stepped forwards, "Ada! I thought you had duties this morning."

"I had and I have." The King answered, his eyes travelling back from Aragorn to his son. It was no secret in Mirkwood that the elven King had no particular love for humans, especially not for those that came and went as they pleased. Which, unfortunately, was just 'the' description for Aragorn.

"Then what brings you here, father?" Legolas's happy voice ripped Aragorn out of his dismal thoughts. Was it only him or was the look of the King getting even icier?

"I came to saw my farewells to you two. And to wish you an uneventful journey and a safe return." Thranduil said, for the first time since he had come smiling. Suddenly, the face of the King became much softer.

"Thank you, Ada!" Legolas smiled, bowing his head minutely, which Aragorn quickly mirrored, so as not to anger the King. Aragorn was a guest in Mirkwood, after all, no matter how many times Legolas tried to convince him that he was family. "Ada, I promise that we will be careful. No orc hunting, no spider chasing, no dwarf infuriating. Don't worry. We will come back in one piece this time. After all, Lake-town is a friendly town and the road free from the spawns of Morgoth."

Taking a breath and looking at Aragorn, Thranduil raised an eyebrow, "Well, as good as free from them."

"Ada!" Legolas laughed, shaking his head with a grin. "I told you not to scare Estel like that."

"Really?" Thranduil lifted an eyebrow in question, but when he saw Legolas's mock exasperated look, he exhaled strongly. "Alright, my son, alright." And in the next moment, as if by some miracle, the stern, patronizing King was gone. In front of them stood a smiling parent, wishing his son and his friend a save journey.

"Better." Legolas decided, smiling at his father. When Thranduil gave him a slightly pouting look (something that Aragorn had never seen an elf Lord do and that amazed him immensely), Legolas laid a hand on his father's shoulder.

"I know you like scaring Aragorn, Ada. But he is my friend, and you promised to behave."

If it was even possible, Thranduil's pout got even worse, and Aragorn quickly looked around him, searching for the wizard who surely had bewitched the King to be suddenly so…normal. And as if that was not scary enough, Legolas leaned towards his father, whispering loud enough for Aragorn to hear, "You still have the servants to scare, Ada. And your advisors. And think about the Captains. Oh, and the spiders! You can still scare them away."

Thranduil seemed to contemplate this for a moment, then nodded, "You are right, Legolas. And besides, scaring humans is much too easy anyway. I long for a challenge."

Smiling, Legolas hugged his father, wishing him farewell and promising once more to be careful. Aragorn mumbled something that could have been a farewell, but sounded more like 'fafel'. When his eyes met the King's, Thranduil eyed him up and down with narrowed eyes, making Aragorn feel like a juicy spider that wished to be scared away. It would not have surprised him had Thranduil suddenly thrown his arms into the air and yelled 'Booh!'.

But, Thranduil did not do something that unelvish. On the contrary, after a moment of gazing at Aragorn, the King smiled at him, bowing his head in the traditional elvish farewell gesture.

"Namarie, Estel of Imladris and Strider of the Rangers. I bid you a good journey, a pleasant stay and a safe return. Mirkwood's gates will always be open for you."

Stunned, Aragorn merely nodded, before he turned and followed Legolas towards the gates. Only when the heavy stone gates had closed behind them and they had mounted their horses, did he realize that, for the first time in all those years, King Thranduil had been really nice to him.

Sighing heartily, Legolas gave him a huge grin, "See? I told you he likes you."

"Does he?" Aragorn asked, still not sure whether this little scene had really happened, or he had fallen from the horse, bumped his head and was dreaming all of this.

"Sure he does." Legolas slowly rode down the path that sneaked through the forest, choosing for a leisurely pace. "He only likes to scare you."

"Why?" Aragorn asked, while ducking under a low hanging branch.

"Because he likes you, Estel. It is his way of showing it. Of breaking the ice." Shrugging, Legolas closed his eyes, enjoying the play of light and shadow on his face.

'His way of showing me that he likes me? Breaking the ice?' Aragorn thought morosely. 'Then I really do not want to know what he would do if he considers me family one day.' But he did not say these things aloud, letting Legolas enjoy the spring sun in peace. And if he was honest with himself, somewhere deep down, Aragorn was feeling honored that the mighty King of Mirkwood, who had fought so many battles and won so many victories, liked him enough to want to scare him. After all, during all those years that Aragorn now visited Mirkwood, the King had always shown him the utmost respect. And considering that he and Legolas were more than simply 'friends', which was no secret either, Aragorn admitted that it was amazing that the King had not thrown him out years ago.

The two riders crossed a small stone bridge that stretched across a gurgling stream, before they entered the deeper woods. Deciding that dwelling on the subject of his relationship with King Thranduil was not the best way of starting this lovely day, Aragorn sighed deeply and buried the theme in the back of his head. Breathing in the fresh air, he looked around, amazed at the change in scenery this early spring had brought to the forest.

Aragorn had stayed the winter in Mirkwood, enjoying his off time from the rangers with his best friend and lover. During that time, snow and ice had covered most of Mirkwood's forests, with frozen rivers and hard earth. The hunting trips and patrols he had joined had been less than comfortable; more often than not he had stayed awake through the night, afraid that his toes or fingers would freeze off.

But now, only a few weeks into Viresse, the weather was warm and the sun had shown for more days than it had rained. The grass was green and lush, while the rivers and streams gurgled merrily, sparkling and shining in the sunlight. Off the path, the birds chirped in the trees, while squirrels chased each other round and round happily. Flowers blossomed already, although by right they should not have been awake yet. The bright, light green of the new born leaves battled with the blue of sky; it was sight to behold.

Tilting his head towards the sun and enjoying the warmth, Aragorn smiled contentedly. This, he thought, was the perfect beginning to a hopefully great trip. Beside him, Legolas enjoyed the sun himself, relaxing the reigns and giving his horse all the freedom it needed. The road they were using was still close enough to the elven settlements to be guarded thoroughly, and he knew that nothing would happen to them. Orcs and wolves did not dare to come this far north, and the shadow had not spread so far yet. This area was still as lovely as it had been hundreds of years ago.

For almost an hour they rode in comfortable silence, simply happy to be together. The sunlight painted a wonderful mosaic of light and shadow on the path, and the chirping of the birds and the buzz of the insects created a peaceful background melody and soothed them both. When the sun rose higher and the air became warmer, Aragorn shrugged out of his thicker leather overcoat, and after a moments contemplation he rolled up the sleeves of his grey shirt as well.

"Will this not be too cold, Estel?" Legolas asked, watching while Aragorn folded his overcoat and stuffed it into one of his saddlebags.

"Oh no. The sun is strong enough. There is no wind either." Aragorn shrugged, giving Legolas a small smile. Leaning back in his saddle, Aragorn patted his horse's neck. "So, Lake-town. You have been there before, have you not?"

Legolas nodded. "Aye. Many years ago, before the dragon Smaug scorched the mountains and destroyed most of the town. I have not been there since…" he screwed his face up in thought, "almost 200 years, I think."

Aragorn's eyes widened in disbelief, "Two hundred years? You told me you knew the town!"

"I do." Legolas answered, smiling. "So much cannot have changed since my last visit."

Giving the elf a disbelieving look, Aragorn shook his head. "Legolas, I'm sorry to say that, but two hundred years is longer than most humans live. Everything will have changed."

"Well, then we will have to explore it together." Legolas winked at him, making Aragorn all warm and comfortable inside. "And besides, the thought behind this trip was to show Lake-town to you. You are the one who wanted to see it and get to know the area. If this journey serves to enlighten me as well, I am more than happy to have come along." Legolas added, shrugging.

"Aye." Aragorn replied mock sourly. "But a certain elf who will remain unnamed here, told me to know the town and its inhabitants, and to be happy to show me all he knew."

With a sparkle of mischief in his eyes, Legolas leaned closer towards Aragorn, speaking softly, "And I will show you all I know. Have I not always?"

Aragorn needed only the fraction of a second to understand the meaning behind those words, and he blushed a sweet tinge of pink. Laughing, Legolas leaned back, gesturing at the road. "We will never make it there before fall if we keep this pace." And with that said he pressed his thighs into the horse's flanks, galloping down the road. Shaking his head at the elf's antics, Aragorn patted his horse and then sped after his friend. He had a feeling, that this trip would be more than interesting. Especially with Legolas around.

_To be continued_

**-bites nails nervously- So, what do you think? Is it that bad? -looks suspiciously at readers- You can be honest, really, I can take it. -smiles vervously- BUT, you could consider putting your critics into nice wording. Or serve it with a yummy cappuchino, sprinkeled with some chocolate and cream...-drool- cappuchino...**


	2. 2 Lo and behold!

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On the fourth day into their journey, the weather was still warm and sunny. The fresh dew on the grass and leaves evaporated quickly in the sunny rays of the sun, and the temperatures had risen with each day. While the nights were still cold enough to warrant a fire, the days were as warm as any summer afternoons. They stopped often to water their horses at the Celduin, often wading in the shores to cool off a bit. The evenings they spent telling stories and fending off bugs and insects, while they roasted lembas over the fire and later enjoyed watching the stars glitter overhead.

Late that fourth day, when the sun had nearly set, they climbed from their horses and let them water at the River Running, before freeing them of their packs and brushing them down. The sun had burned down for most of the day, and under the boughs of the mighty trees of Mirkwood, the air was still warm and humid. They had left the area protected by the Woodelves yesterday around noon, but so far they had not met anything dangerous or even remotely so.

No, to be perfectly honest, both of them had been glad to escape the occasional eyes of the soldiers. While they only did their duty to protect the forest and especially the northern dwelling of the Woodelves, they also meant watching eyes. Now, away from them, Legolas and Aragorn felt themselves more relaxed, more free to do as they liked. Which included kissing and sleeping side by side at night.

While Legolas bound the horses to a tree, making sure that they could easily reach the water and had enough grass to chew on, Aragorn set up their bed rolls and began collect some dry wood for the fire they would kindle later. He was just throwing a pile of wood onto the earth, when Legolas joined him. They had decided to camp near the river, although that would mean more insects; but especially Legolas enjoyed listening to the river while Aragorn found the open sky above the stream enchanting.

Wiping a hand across his sweaty brow, Aragorn looked longingly at the river. The bank on this side of the wide stream was shallow and almost free of pebbles and stones. While the river was deeper the further one went to the middle, it was only chest high here. The current was strong, but not strong enough to give them any problems; both of them were excellent swimmers. The water was still cold at this time of the year, but after a day of sitting in the saddle, with the sun burning down on him, Aragorn felt all sweaty and dusty. He longed to go for a quick swim and to wash away the grime of travel.

Before Aragorn could even say something, Legolas took him by the shoulders and pushed him into the direction of the river, "Go, Estel. I will set up the camp and join you in a minute."

Grinning, Aragorn gave Legolas a quick kiss on his cheek, then made his way down the shore, already opening the strings of his shirt. Looking at the man's retreating back, Legolas shook his head with a grin. Sometimes Aragorn behaved like a child, and not the man he was, but that was one of the things that Legolas liked so much about him. While Aragorn travelled most of Eriador on his own and knew more ways to kill an orc than anyone else Legolas had ever met (beside the twins, of course), Aragorn had kept his childish sense of happiness and his ability to seek and find pleasure in almost every situation. As Legolas knew from experience.

Legolas watched Aragorn for a moment longer, feeling his eyes glued to that strong and lean body, those muscled legs, those tanned skin….before he shook his head forcibly and turned around. There was still firewood to be collected, water bottles to be filled and food to be prepared. Sighing, Legolas entered the woods, searching for dry branches and twigs.

At the banks of the wide river, Aragorn shrugged out of his sweaty shirt, tossing it to the ground heedless of the dirt it would be stained with. He would wash his clothing once he was finished swimming. His boots and trousers came next, followed quickly by his underwear. Now completely unclothed, Aragorn felt a shiver run down his spine. The light breeze that came from the water was chilly, and in but moments goose bumps appeared on his arms and legs.

Tentatively, Aragorn held a toe into the water, shuddering at the coldness. Grimacing, he took a deep breath, braced himself, and with long strides he waded into the water. He splashed and jumped up and down for a few moments, before he submerged completely in the water. When he came up again, he coughed a few times and wiped his sodden hair out of his face. The river was freezing! A few rocks and boulder rose out of the river, slowing the current, and Aragorn used them to deposit his soap on them.

As quickly as he could, Aragorn cleaned himself and even washed his hair with the few pieces of soap he had brought. The longer he stayed in the water, the less cold it felt, and when he wiped the last traces of soap from his chest, it did not feel cold at all anymore. The sun just sank behind the treetops across the river, bathing the forest into a red and golden light. The last rays danced on the river, glittering like fluid diamonds.

Gazing contentedly at the sinking sun, Aragorn was suddenly aware of anothers presence. Turning around, he saw that Legolas had joined him in the water, his long hair falling unbraided down his back. Smiling, Aragorn turned back to the marvelous sunset, enjoying the last rays of the spring sun.

A moment later, he felt the strong arms of his lover circle around his waist and Legolas's chest at his back. Sighing, he leaned into the embrace, and only a heartbeat later, Legolas lowered his chin on his shoulder. They stayed that way until the sun had vanished as a red fireball behind the trees and darkness began to spread quickly across the woods.

Breaking the embrace, Aragorn turned around, eyeing Legolas's hair. Taking one of the barley colored strands into his hand, he tugged at it playfully, "Shall I wash it?"

"If you wish to." Nodding, Legolas slowly made his way to the shore, coming back moments later with a small bottle of the herbal mixture he used to cleanse his hair. Turning his back to Aragorn, Legolas tilted his head back a bit to make it easier for Aragorn to wash his hair.

The mixture smelled of flowers and honey and while Aragorn massaged it into the long strands, careful not to tie any knots by accident, Legolas enjoyed the feel of the man's gentle hands. Upon Aragorn's command he dunked under the water and stayed there, while Aragorn washed the last residues of the mixture out of his hair. When Aragorn gave Legolas a light tap on the shoulder to indicate that he could emerge, the elf did so with fluent grace.

Upon emerging, Legolas turned around to face Aragorn, smiling his thanks. Water was flowing down his face, dripping off his nose and lips, before it ran in rivulets down his slender chest. The water was only waist high where they stood, and in the light of early evening Legolas's naked chest looked almost pearly white. His natural elven light made his skin glowing silver blue, like Mithril.

Feeling his breathing speed up, Aragorn could not take his eyes away from the sight in front of him. No matter how often he saw Legolas unclothed, it took his breath away every single time.

Across from him, Legolas was thinking among the same lines. The water flowed almost tranquilly around Aragorn's body, as if playing with the man. His skin was tanned by the spring sun, and with the myriad of water droplets that covered his chest, he looked unbelievably strong; almost like a boulder in a raging river. Goosebumps covered the man's arms, and when Legolas narrowed his eyes slightly, he could see that Aragorn's lips had taken on a slightly blueish color.

Taking a step closer, Legolas wound his arms around Aragorn and pulled him closer. When their faces were only inches apart, Legolas whispered, "You are cold, Estel."

"The water is freezing, just in case you have not noticed." Aragorn replied equally softly, placing his hands on Legolas's hips, just under the surface of the water. He could feel the familiar surge of love and desire chase through him, and from the sparkle in Legolas's eyes, the elf felt the same.

A moment later, Aragorn felt the elf's lips brush gently against his own, and he opened his mouth invitingly. Legolas kissed him slowly, letting his lips tease and pull gently, before their tongues met searchingly. A warmth spread through Aragorn's body, from head to toe, and while the kiss lasted, he knew nothing around him but the elf in front of him.

When the kiss ended, neither of them moved his face away, their noses almost touching. "Better now?" Legolas asked, his eyes sparkling brightly.

"No." Aragorn shook his head. "I am still horribly cold." And with that he leaned in and kissed Legolas, while he pressed the elf closer towards his body. Under the surface of the water, their hips touched, making them both moan softly, before they quickly shifted their positions so that their lengths would touch.

Without ending the kiss, Aragorn let his hands move downwards until they rested on Legolas's tight behind. Painting little circles with his thumbs, he could feel Legolas shudder slightly. As a response, the elf pulled Aragorn closer and intensified the kiss. Both of them felt their desire rise, and after another few long moments of kissing, they broke apart, panting slightly.

By now, darkness had spread over the woods and the air had turned decidedly colder. The first stars had appeared in the sky, being mirrored in the river, and here and there an owl hooted sadly. Slowly, Legolas moved his hands downwards, just like Aragorn had done, until his long fingers found the crevice between the muscled cheeks. He teased for a second, making Aragorn swallow thickly, before he parted them gently and sneaked a finger between them.

Shifting, Aragorn leaned into Legolas, closing his eyes in anticipation of what was to come. Legolas's finger caressed his opening a few times, before the elf slid into it. He breached the guarding ring without problems, having done this numerous times before. Shifting once more, Aragorn felt Legolas enter him, widening him slowly. His breathing quickened even more, and although the water was freezing, his manhood began to swell almost immediately.

Slowly, Legolas let his finger circle around, but then he removed it. Giving Aragorn a fleeting kiss, he quickly looked around for the mixture Aragorn had used to wash his hair. Finding it close by, on one of the boulders that rose out of the river, he spread some of it onto his fingers and returned to Aragorn.

Stepping in front of the man, Legolas kissed him soundly, while he dipped his hand under water and quickly entered first one, than two fingers, so that the mixture would not wash off ere he had found the man's opening. Aragorn moaned, gripping Legolas's closely for support and balance, while the river flowed freely around them.

Aragorn felt Legolas widen him tenderly, preparing him without hurry. Biting his bottom lip, he tightened his hold on Legolas's behind, fighting the urge to rub his hardened member against Legolas. He could feel the elf's arousal whenever he shifted, and although he wanted to feel Legolas, to touch him there, he knew that what was to come would be much better.

With a groan he answered to Legolas entering a third finger, breathing more heavily. Suddenly, a shock of pleasure surged through him, making him push against Legolas, groaning lustily. Another shock tore through him, then a third. Having felt this so many times in the past, Aragorn did not resist, knowing that Legolas was stroking his tender spot deeply inside of him.

Wrapping his arms around Legolas's neck, Aragorn spread his legs wider, urging the elf to go deeper. Instead, Legolas laughed lightly and removed his fingers. Before Aragorn could protest, the elf kissed him tenderly, then lifted him up just a bit. With the current they moved to one of the boulders, which were as smooth as glass, polished by the river over hundreds and hundreds of years.

They kissed for another long minute, before Legolas moved to stand behind Aragorn. Bracing his arms against the boulder in front of him, Aragorn felt Legolas shift against him, his arousal touching his behind. The sensation and the knowledge of what was to come made him moan deeply. He felt Legolas move his hands up and down his broad back, wanting him to relax all of his muscles, so that he would not hurt him. Feeling his own arousal begin to throb, Aragorn pushed back against Legolas in clear desire.

A moment later, strong elvish hands were placed on his hips, steadying him. Closing his eyes, Aragorn bowed his head slightly, waiting. He did not have to wait long, for shortly afterwards he felt Legolas spread his legs with his knee, before the elf placed his length at his entrance.

Slowly, very slowly, Legolas pushed forwards, entering him bit by bit. The freezing water dulled the sting, while the warm, hard length of Legolas inside of him was probably the most wonderful thing that Aragorn had ever felt. With minute pushs he urged Legolas to go faster, and when the elf was finally fully sheathed in him, Aragorn moaned deep in his throat.

He could feel the hot breath of the elf on his shoulder, and when Legolas pulled back slowly, leaving him almost completely before he pushed back in, Aragorn let go of all that was around him, concentrating only on the there and now. Long fingers suddenly squeezed his length, and with every push inside of him, Legolas stroked him strongly, wanting Aragorn to scream and cry in pleasure at once. But, no tone left his lips but moans of desire and love, while Legolas echoed his sentiment behind him.

Their love making was slow and sensual, mimicking the flowing of the river. Slow at first, followed by some quick twist and turns, before they found their destination together. Aragorn felt the last spurs of his release surge through him, then the warm lips of Legolas on his shoulder. The elf withdrew himself, but he did not move away.

A nightly breeze rushed across the river, causing Aragorn to shudder in the chill, and without another word he and Legolas waded to the shore. Drying each other, they put on fresh clothing. While Aragorn wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, trying to keep his teeth from chattering, Legolas kindled a fire and set a pot of water to boil.

Sitting down beside Aragorn, the elf smiled at him, "That was…different."

Aragorn snorted softly, "Is it not always _different_ with us two?"

"True." Legolas said, sprinkling some dried leaves into the by now boiling water. Darkness had settled completely and the forest surrounding them was pitch black, but neither of them felt any unease in the air. They sipped their tea and ate dinner, talking amiably, until Aragorn, worn out by the journey and they activities, yawned wildly.

"Go to bed, Estel." Legolas laughed lightly. "I will wake you for your watch."

Lying back flat onto his bedroll, Aragorn gazed up at the stars, wondering what he had done to deserve such a partner as Legolas. Before long, Legolas began to sing, lulling Aragorn into a contented sleep.

--oOo—

They journeyed alongside the banks of the River Running for a few more days, until the river grew even wider and the forest thinner. The thick undergrowth gave way to smaller ferns and bushes, with brambles, bilberry and stinging nettles. Flowers blossomed along the roadside and more often than not furrows in the road indicated that it was used for trade.

When the road slowly turned from packed earth to slightly more man-made path, Legolas smiled sideways at Aragorn. Although the young ranger had tried to hide it, the closer they had come to Laketown, the more agitated he had become. What had started as a slight shifting in the saddle shortly after they had broken camp in the morning, had turned into neck-craning, head-tilting and eyes-narrowing in regular intervals, all in the attempt to catch the first glimpse of the swimming town.

Legolas might have last been to Laketown two hundred years ago, but that did not mean that he did not recognize the scenery. Ancient trees that had survived the desolation of Smaug had not vanished, smaller ruins had not withered and his sense of direction and distance had never before lied to Legolas.

Now, shortly after noon, Legolas could tell that they were closing in on the town. Around another bend in the road, over a small bridge spreading across an arm of the Forest River and then up the last hill. But, he did not say so to Aragorn, wanting to see the man's face when they crested the hill to see the town beneath.

They turned around the bend, they crossed the river in silence, before they gently urged their mounts up the road that wound over the grassy hilltop. They both ducked under the last low hanging branches of the trees, until the forest widened before them, opened up to the open plains north of the forest of the elves.

After a few more strides they crested the hill…and stopped their mounts. Legolas saw Aragorn's jaw drop a little and his eyes going round as saucers. Smiling, he spread his arm wide, "Lo and behold! Esgaroth, City of the Lake, home of men and greatest merchant place in this part of Arda." That also dwarves used to live in Laketown, Legolas chose to ignore.

To be continued


	3. 3 The Fat Fisherman

* * *

Chapter 3: The Fat Fisherman

For long, long minutes they simply gazed at the town beneath them. Esgaroth lay at the shores of the Long Lake, which was fed by the Forest River and the River Running. The latter exited the Long Lake via a waterfall at its most southern point, before it sneaked away alongside the forest of Mirkwood.

The banks of the Long Lake were filled with huts and houses, piers and docks. Ships, big and small danced on the waves, baskets, barrels and carts littered the shores. The sails of the ships glittered in every color imaginable, from white to yellow, green, red and blue. It was a display of so many different colors that Aragorn thought for a moment he would witness one of Gandalf's fireworks.

Small, short cherry trees lined the banks. Now, with the warm weather and the sunshine, most of them blossomed a pearly white and every time a gust of wind blew through the boughs, a shower of white petals floated through the air and to the ground. The water was sprinkled with them, as were the banks. It almost looked as if it had snowed. Where there were no cherry trees, young chestnuts had been planted. The triangular blossoms of the trees, shining yellow and white, competed with the brilliant white cherry petals. Green, healthy grass grew between the trees, lining the paved roads and the wooden bridges.

A bit further away from the lake, flocks of sheep and cows grassed happily, with shepherds and dogs guarding them. A few fields had been created to the North, where corn, rye and wheat just began to grow. And even further to the north, at the slopes of the smaller mountains that would eventually grow into Mount Erebor, the humans had planted apple trees and grapes for wine. Even from the distance the two riders could make out the small figures of humans going about their business on the fields, the orchards and of course on the lake itself.

And Laketown…the town was breathtaking. It seemed as if it floated on the water to the left of the Long Lake. Hundreds and hundreds of wooden piers carried the whole town, which seemed to be entirely made out of wood. The buildings were packed tightly, or so it seemed, with narrow streets, small allies and a myriad of bridges and docks. A waist high fence seemed to have been built around the city, and beneath it thick nets had been fastened, probably to keep children, animals and drunken inhabitants from toppling into the lake.

At almost every house at the border of the town, boats or vessels floated merrily on the clear lake, ready to carry its owners across the lake for business or a leisurely stroll. Between the houses, high post had been erected, with banners and flags fluttering in the breeze that blew across the lake. Had Aragorn been forced to utter his impression of the town at this very moment, it would probably have been 'unbelievable'.

"It is beautiful." Aragorn finally said, shaking his head in wonderment. Never before had he seen such a town as this. He had not even imagined the town to look like this.

"Aye, it is. Now that I see it, I have to admit that it looks different from the last time I saw it."

"That was two hundred years ago." Raising an eyebrow, Aragorn gave Legolas a look that clearly showed what he thought about the elf's comment.

"Well." Legolas shrugged his shoulders. "Not that long ago, though." And with that, Legolas pressed his knees into his horse's flanks, guiding it down the road and towards the town. Aragorn quickly followed, still mesmerized by the Long Lake and the settlement.

It took them nearly three more hours to reach the outskirts of the lake. The nearer they came to the town, the better the road became. Packed and stamped earth turned into large, flat stones and a few miles later the road was paved with smaller stones and rocks. They passed small, grassy hills where sheep grazed merrily, munching on the grass. A white and black dog guarded them, eying the two riders suspiciously for a moment, before he turned his attention back to the flock.

Carts and a few riders met them on the road, and Aragorn and Legolas greeted the merchants, farmers and fishermen they met politely. Coming close to the water, the two had to cross numerous bridges, made of either stone or wood, for the inhabitants of the town had built many smaller brooks and arms of the lake to water their crops and animals. Here and there, a woman washed the families' clothing, the sleeves of her dress rolled up and the hair springing forth from the white bonnets she wore.

Late in the afternoon, only a few hours before sunset, Legolas and Aragorn reached the large wooden bridge that would bring them towards the town itself. The piers were thicker than their whole bodies and raised high out of the water. The lake splashed in small waves against them, and small black mussels clung to them. It smelled musty and fresh and the same time.

Dismounting, the two friends slowly made their way across the bridge, from now and then soothing their horses, who were a tad bit nervous of moving across such a large brigde, with nothing but water to both sides. Merchants and fishermen passed them by, eyeing them curiously, but not unfriendly. Lake town was the biggest merchant town in the North East, controlling and guiding the trade to and from Erebor to Mirkwood and even further South and West. Strangers were common here, although a Woodelf was not a sight that met the inhabitants every day.

"Do you smell that, Legolas?" Aragorn asked excitedly, turning his face towards the water. "Salt and water and…seaweed!"

Smiling at his friend's obvious enthusiasm, Legolas nodded his head, "I have been told the great sea smells like this. Although, the Long Lake is not made of salt water, but clear, sweet water coming from the mountains. The salt you smell comes from the fish and mussels."

There was a small sentiment in Legolas's voice, causing Aragorn to look at his friend questioningly. It took him a moment to notice it, but then he hurried to speak, "Oh Legolas, I never thought the Long Lake might affect you and probably wake the Sea Longing in you." He stopped in his tracks. "You should have said something! We can turn back, now, immediately."

"No, no, Estel." Legolas gently pushed him into motion again, shaking his head. "I did not mean it that way. It was just a comment."

Aragorn eyed him suspiciously for a moment, his eyes slightly narrowed. He had known Legolas for many years now, and he knew that his friend was not making idle comments. Sometimes rash comments born from passion or anger, but he never spoke without reason or thought.

Seeing that the man was still dwelling on the subject, Legolas felt himself sigh inwardly. He really had not meant it the way his friend had understood him. But, he felt warmed by the thought that Aragorn cared so much for him that he would turn around and never visit Lake Town just to see him happy. Looking around to find a subject that would capture Aragorn's attention and divert him from their earlier conversation, Legolas spotted a platform built close to the town. Pointing at it, he asked, "Estel, do you see that?"

The man squinted his eyes against the by now low hanging sun and nodded. "What is it?"

"I have heard of them. They are crab-traps." Legolas explained.

"Crab-traps?" Aragorn repeated, gazing at the platform that floated a few hundred yards away from the town. It was square in form and built of a grey wood that reflected the sun. In the middle of it there seemed to be a hole of some sort. Around it, long poles had been erected, triangular in form, that reminded Aragorn of the wooden constructions used to cook something about a fire. From those wooden spikes, a metal chain hung down into the water, with a small brass bell on the top. Confused, Aragorn turned back to Legolas.

"What are they good for?"

"Look." Legolas simply said, once more pointing at the platform. A small vessel was nearing, with two fishermen in it. They tied the boat to the platform, and then began to pull at the chain, using a handle mechanism that Aragorn knew from wells. Slowly, the chain emerged from the water, and a few minutes later a metal cage was lifted. The bars of the cage were wide enough to let bigger and smaller fish through, but not the huge, orange lobsters. Once they were inside, the animals got caught. There must have been six or seven of the animals in the cage, and the men were slapping their shoulders upon this great catch.

A few moments later, Aragorn and Legolas lost sight of the fishermen, having reached the gate into the city. Two guards, tall and clad in the garments of the town's mayor barred the gate. They carried swords and spears, and while they looked grim, they let the two pass without comment. Not so a small, hunched man who tried to enter the city shortly after Legolas and Aragorn. They stopped him, and before the hunched man could protest, one of the guards took his pack from him, opened it and gazed into it.

"Ah, I thought so." Aragorn heard the guard call out. "McManus, old fool. How often do I have to tell you that you cannot bring that thing inside?" There was a screech, followed by some shuffling, and when Aragorn looked back over his shoulder, he saw a ginger colored cat flee the scene, the hunched man on its heels. The guards laughed, as did some of the other townsfolk.

"What was that about?" Aragorn asked no one in particular, having a bit of trouble to soothe his horse. The street they had entered was narrow, and with the sun nearly setting, the townspeople were coming home from work, squeezing past them left and right.

Making way for an old woman with two quarrelling children beside her, Legolas answered, "Cats are not allowed in the town. Too little space for all their offspring. And furthermore," He was interrupted when he quickly sidestepped a cart full of potatoes so that it would not squash his toes. "And furthermore, cats love fish. The fishermen would not be too happy about cats eating their catch."

"I see." Aragorn managed, before he moved past two arguing bakers, both of them covered in flour and what looked to be like jam. He shook his head, then lifted it slightly, thanking the Valar that the Dunedain were such tall people. The street was packed with people. Wherever he looked, he saw heads and hats, shoulders, backs, faces and legs. Humans seemed to be everywhere! So much so, that from time to time he lost sight of Legolas altogether. He could not even see the houses to both sides of the street clearly…Not to mention that he was not really choosing his own way, but was rather swimming with the river of townspeople.

"Legolas?" He called over the heads of some joking farmers.

"Yes?" Came a slightly muffled voice from somewhere to his left.

"Do you have any idea where exactly we are going? If you do not mind me asking."

"Of course not." Legolas said, fighting his way over to Aragorn. "We are going East."

"Ah." Aragorn made, before he added, "And where East exactly?" Legolas gave him a slightly uncomfortable look.

"As far East as these people carry us with them, I think." He glanced around him, not sure whether he should be amused or frightened by the throng of humans around him.

"This is ridiculous." Aragorn said, stopping in his tracks in the last moment to avoid being run over by a cart pulled by an ox. Once the cart had passed, he gripped the reins of his horse tightly and maneuvered the mare into a smaller alley, where the stream of people was less thick. Legolas followed with some difficulty.

Catching their breaths, Aragorn looked around him. Or rather, up at the sky, for the alley was so narrows that not a single person, be it men or elf, would have been able to squeeze between the two horses and their riders standing in it.

The houses lining the alley were built of a dark wood, reminding Aragorn of oak or chestnut, but the wood was already darkened by wind and weather. There were almost no windows and only small doors, while the houses themselves looked not larger than one-room huts. But, they were well cared for and here and there a pot of flowers stood in the windows or in front of the doors.

"And now?" Legolas suddenly asked, looking around.

"And here I thought _you_ were _my_ guide in Lake Town." Aragorn teased good naturedly. "Let's see." He gazed at the bit of sky he could see. "The sun will set in about an hour. Not much time to explore the town. What about looking for an inn first, care for the horses and enjoy our first night on the water with some good food and ale…or wine." He added, when he saw the small grimace of disgust on Legolas's face. No matter how often he tried to win Legolas for ale, the elf simply found the strong brew disgusting.

"Agreed." Nodding, Legolas looked up and down the alley. "Shall we go back to the main road or down the alley, what do you say?"

"Out of the way, if you ask me!" A deep voice suddenly mumbled behind them.

Turning in surprise, Aragorn and Legolas craned their necks to look over the backs of their horses, but they could see no one. Admittedly, the shadows in the alley were lengthening and it was getting darker, but not _that_ dark.

"Excuse me?" Aragorn asked, gently shoving his horse's head away to take a better look at the alley in front of him. Still, he could see no one and the alley looked deserted but for a few seagulls, fighting over a tiny piece of fish that must have fallen from a cart.

"I said, out of the way, long leg!" The gruff voice came again, and this time Aragorn could make out the place where it came from. Eyes widening, he looked down, narrowed his eyes, bent his knees and …yes! There, somewhere between the hooves of the two horses, a stout dwarf stood, stomping his feet in agitation. Now and then he jumped a little to the side to avoid being slapped by the horse's tails.

"Oh, I am sorry, Master dwarf." Quickly, Aragorn guided his horse forwards a few steps, so that the dwarf could step between the two animals. Legolas, however, stayed where he was, eying the small being tightlipped. When the dwarf gave the big horses another look before he hurriedly moved past them, Legolas's horse nickered loudly, causing the dwarf to jerk and swear softly. Was Aragorn only imagining it or was Legolas trying to suppress a smile? When the elf stroked his mare's muzzle, whispering softly elvish words of praise, Aragorn sighed inwardly. Elves…

"What do you stand here like ordered packages anyway?" The dwarf said, still a bit flustered. His dark beard was braided into two thick braids, his belly was as round as a barrel and his cheeks flushed a healthy red. As was his big nose, too. Aragorn had no problem guessing what the dwarf had been up to this day, for he could smell the liquor even though there was a light breeze.

"We were just deciding which might be the fastest way to an inn, Master dwarf." Aragorn said, trying his best to ignore the looks Legolas shot the small being.

"An inn, hè?" The dwarf said, looping his thumbs into his leather belt and sticking out his round belly. "There are not that many good inns in town, mind ye. Only two really good ones, if you ask me."

Nodding politely, Aragorn inquired, "And which might that be?"

"Well, the Sinking Ship and the Fat Fisherman. The Sinking Ship has the best ale in town! They serve it in those huge goblets, with the white, fluffy foam spilling over the edges, dripping over your fingers. It is dark and strong, best ale in town." The dwarf licked his lips as if he could actually taste the ale on his tongue.

"And the Fat Fisherman, Master dwarf?" Aragorn asked, seeing Legolas raise a delicate eyebrow at the description of the ale.

"Ah, best food in town." The dwarf pulled his trousers up and patted his round belly. "Serves the best food East of the Misty Mountains and South of Erebor. Roasted chicken with parsley filling, golden tomatoes with sour cream, fresh fish with a thick crust of salt and pepper, hot, steaming tomatoes with garlic sauce, sweet bread with soft butter, bubbling stew with roasted bread crumbs, meat pies with mint gelee, honey rolls, apple pie with cream, strawberry tarts, pudding with cake pieces in it…" While the dwarf continued to list all the wonderful food one could get in the Fat Fisherman, Aragorn and Legolas exchanged an amused look.

"And, which one do we choose?" Aragorn asked softly, not wanting to disturb the dwarf who was just now listing all the fish dishes the inn served.

"You know me, Estel. I am neither very fond of ale nor of food." Legolas shrugged. "You decide."

Aragorn gave Legolas a look that clearly meant '_are you certain_'? Legolas shrugged once more, giving him a minute smile.

Shrugging, Aragorn eyed the dwarf for a moment, undecidedly. He longed for a good, cold ale, but the dishes the dwarf was just now listing sounded marvelous.

"…hot mussels with garlic on a bed of seaweed, completed with golden roasted bread fresh from the oven. Cockles with onion sauce, served with scrabbled egg and a salad made of cheese and small fish…"

Feeling his mouth watering, Aragorn made his choice. Clearing his throat, he caught the dwarf's attention. Looking up at Aragorn as if he had completely forgotten that the two were there, the dwarf asked, "Huh? What?"

Aragorn suppressed a smile, "I thank you for your in detail description of the inns' qualities. I think we will stay in the Fat Fisherman, if they have rooms for us, that is."

"Oh, they will have." The dwarf waved his hand through the air dismissively. "Not much travelers this time of the year, ye know. High season is in fall, when the trade flows through here."

"Could you tell us where the inn is located?" Aragorn asked, stroking his horse's neck when the animal began to dance on the spot in impatience.

"I can not only tell you." The dwarf poked out his belly. "I can show you! I am on my way there anyway." And with a small wink in Aragorn's direction, he added, "Today is trout day, if you get what I mean."

And with that, the dwarf licked his lips in anticipation, turned around and strode down the alley, heading for the main road from whence Aragorn and Legolas had come only minutes prior. The two exchanged an amused look, then shrugged their shoulders, took the reins of their horses and followed the slightly humming dwarf down the road.

Once they entered the main road, they were immediately assaulted by the homecoming inhabitants of the town, and more than once they lost sight of the stout dwarf. After almost an hour of winding through the town and avoiding being separated or run over by a cart, Legolas glowered at Aragorn. The elf's mood had deteriorated quickly.

"Tell me again why we are following that dwarf." He ground out.

"Because you let me decide the inn and the dwarf knows the way." Aragorn said over the heads of a group of women, who giggled amongst themselves.

"Right." Legolas managed, before he sighed deeply. "Estel?"

"Yes?"

"Remind me to never let you decide something like that again."

Laughing, Aragorn shook his head, before he waved at the dwarf who stood on a barrel at the far end of the road, waiting for them. "Come now, mellon nin. It could be worse, could it not?"

And it did.

"You must be joking, Estel!" Legolas hissed, turning a fierce glare upon the man. With the last rays of the sun glinting off the roofs of the houses and reflecting on the surface of the Long Lake, they had reached the Fat Fisherman, the inn the dwarf had spoken off. The inn was situated at the North end of the city, at the edge of the town. Two sides of it looked out over the lake, and Aragorn was sure one would have a wonderful view from one of the upper windows.

"Come now, Legolas." He tried to reason with the seething elf. "It is not _that_ bad."

"Not that bad?!" Legolas scrunched his face in disgust. "That inn is owned and run by dwarves!" He practically spat the last word, causing Aragorn too sigh audibly.

When they had reached the inn, the door had been flung open widely, revealing a spacious common room that was filled with more dwarves than men. The fact that the owner, a red bearded, stout dwarf had greeted their guide with open arms, slapping him on the shoulder and inviting him inside to the rest of the _family, _had not made the matter any better. From that moment, Legolas had refused to stay at the inn. Period. And since that time, Aragorn tried to reason with his friend. He was tired, he was dusty and the smell coming from the inn made his mouth water.

"Please, Legolas. Night is upon us and it will get cold soon, especially on the water. And the horses need some good rubbing down, food and fresh water."

Crossing his arms across his chest, Legolas shook his head. "I will not set one foot in there. No way."

"Don't be so….elvish!" Aragorn threw his hands into the air, nearly slapping his horse which neighed indignantly. "They are only dwarves, Legolas, not orcs."

Raising a delicate eyebrow, Legolas opened his mouth to retort, but Aragorn quickly cut him off, realizing the opening he had so unwittingly presented for the elf. "No, don't say it Legolas. Remember what you told your father when we left Mirkwood." Aragorn raised a finger and pointed it at the fuming elf. "No orc hunting, no spider chasing, no dwarf infuriating." He repeated Legolas's own words.

Narrowing his eyes, Legolas ground out, "I had my fingers crossed behind my back."

At his wits end and really turning rather hungry, Aragorn tried one last time. "We will never be here, really. During the days we will visit the city and in the evenings we can eat somewhere else."

Legolas simply huffed and continued to glower at Aragorn. The door to the inn was opened and two dwarves exited, chattering away merrily. If possible, Legolas expression darkened even further.

Sighing, Aragorn gave in, "Alright, have it your way then, elf. We will stay only this one night and then search for something else. But it is too dark to try to find another inn tonight."

Giving Aragorn another dark look, Legolas nodded his head once, "Agreed." They brought their horses to the small stable and left them in the care of the stable hand, a young looking boy around the age of twelve. Aragorn sighed inwardly in relief that it was no dwarf who took care of the horses, as unlikely as that might have been anyway.

Reaching the door, Legolas scrunched his nose in disgust and unconsciously straightened his back. He could tolerate dwarves…from a great distance and for a short time. The thought to stay under a roof with them for a whole evening and night made him revolt inwardly.

"Behave, Legolas." Aragorn spoke softly into his ear.

"Only if they do." Legolas retorted darkly, shooting a quick glance at the man beside him. To his surprise, Aragorn gave him a minute grin. "If you behave during the meal, Legolas, you might misbehave during the night." Aragorn whispered into his ear, then quickly pushed the door open and entered the inn. For a moment, Legolas simply stood there, digesting the man's words, before he vowed silently that he _would_ behave. Oh yes, he would.

Legolas followed Aragorn into the inn, his bags slung across his shoulders. As soon as he stepped over the threshold, the warm, smoky air made his eyes water. Blinking, he made out the tall figure of Aragorn, who was already on the other side of the inn, leaning casually against the counter.

The room they had entered seemed to be the common room of the inn. In a stone hearth on one of the corners of the room a fire was burning merrily, while a few cozy chairs had been grouped around it. Numerous tables of various sizes filled the room, clearly made for men and elves and dwarves. Or Hobbits, if one of the Small Folk should ever venture so far North-East. Candles stood on the tables, the wax dripping down slowly, while tankards of ale or wine were lifted by the many guests. Food stood on almost every table, and when Legolas passed a group of men on his way over to Aragorn, the rich smell of backed fish reached his nose.

"We only have one room for guests of your size left." A deep voice said not unkindly, when Legolas sidled up to Aragorn.

At first, Legolas could not make out the one who had spoken, but when he followed Aragorn's gaze, he pressed his lips tightly together.

"I see, Master dwarf." Aragorn said to the dark haired dwarf who stood on a low stool behind the counter. "But we are tired from traveling and in need of sleep. We will take the room." He shot a quick look at Legolas, who gave him the sort of dark glare that he usually reserved for orcs.

From behind the counter, the dwarf hoisted a huge, leather bound book onto the counter, flipping it open. Picking up a quill and dipping it into the ink bottle, he asked, "Names?"

"My name is Strider." Aragorn said, watching as the quill scraped slowly over the yellowish paper. "And this is…" He never finished the sentence, for Legolas suddenly spoke up.

"My name is Greenleaf."

Frowning, Aragorn opened his mouth, but Legolas cut him off, "Simply Greenleaf. With two 'e' s."

The quill scratched once more across the parchment, marking their presence in the Fat Fisherman. Closing the book with a dull thud, the dwarf eyed them curiously for a moment, narrowing his eyes as if he wanted to say something. But then he changed his mind, turned around and reached for a metal key that hang on a board behind him.

"Room 15. First landing. And by the way, my name is Lifir, Lofur's son, at your service." He bowed a bit, trying not to hit his head at the counter, then hopped from his stool. Looking up at Aragorn and Legolas, he smiled broadly, "Welcome to the Fat Fishermen! Enjoy our food, drink our ale and…" he shook his finger at them half-playfully "don't forget to pay before you leave." Then he laughed, and in the next moment he had vanished behind a curtain that most probably led to the kitchen.

"Well." Aragorn took a breath, looking around the inn. "Charming." And avoiding Legolas's murdering look, he took the key, shouldered his packs and made his way through the noisy crowd towards the stairs, leading up to the rooms.

Following more slowly, Legolas grumbled something under his breath that sounded very much like doom and destruction, but Aragorn chose not to listen. The stairs creaked under Aragorn's weight and he meant to see small clouds of dust (or were it wooden splinters?) sail to the ground, and he hurried to reach the first landing. The corridor they entered was flanked by doors to the right and left side, with small iron plates on them. Each plate showed the number of the room, in Westron as well as in the runes the dwarves used. Similarly, the handles of the doors were either at the heights of men respectively elves, or dwarves.

Number 15 lay at the far end of the corridor, the last room to the left side. Opening the door, Aragorn stepped inside. It was pitch black inside, for no candles had been lit and the curtains were shut. Letting his bags fall to the ground near the door, Aragorn squinted through the darkness. When he could see a bit more than just blackness, he made his way over to the brighter speck that was the window. While Legolas closed the door softly behind them, Aragorn reached out and pulled the curtains away.

"Sweet Eru." He breathed, staring outside.

"What is it?" Coming over to Aragorn, Legolas peeked over the man's shoulder. He sucked in his breath audibly, then stood still and simply watched. Form their window, they could overlook the whole lake. The dark water glittered under them with the light of the stars, creating a second sky in the sea. Silver moonlight streamed through the glass of the window, and the moon stood bright and glowing in the firmament, so big as neither Aragorn nor Legolas had even seen him.

When they turned their gazes directly downwards, or to the side, they could see a small part of the town, the wooden piers, docks and alleys. All of them were alight with a soft golden light. There were no open torches or candles, but all light was contained in small, golden glass orbs, like oil lamps. Some glowed green, others red or blue, whichever glass was used, and it was as if the whole town was a sparkling diamond.

Smiling, Legolas took a deep breath, placing his chin on Aragorn's shoulder and embracing him from behind. "It is beautiful, mellon nin." Aragorn simply nodded, glad that Legolas did not mind their staying in the inn or the town too much. For long moments the two friends stood there, gazing at the splendor around them.

When most lights had been lit outside, though, and the last boats had found their haven, Aragorn and Legolas lit the candles on the tables, kindled a small glow in the coal basin to warm the room, and unpacked their bags. There was only one bed in the room, but neither of them minded, actually they were welcoming the arrangements.

"I could do with a bath." Looking down at his travel dust covered clothing, Aragorn made his way over to the chest of drawers, where a wash basin was located. Shrugging out of his shirt, he poured some cold water out of a pitcher into the basin and washed quickly. Donning a fresh shirt, he slumped down on the bed, closing his eyes tiredly.

"I hope you have left me some water." Legolas said, sniffing his shirt. "I will never get the stench of this inn out of my clothing. Let alone my hair."

"You could always take a swim in the lake." Aragorn quipped from the bed, not bothering to open his eyes. "A midnight swim under the stars."

"Well, if you join me." There was a smile in Legolas's voice, and Aragorn laughed softly.

"Nay my friend. Rangers may be hardy, but the water of the lake would even freeze the fire of Smaug at this time of the year."

There was a mock sigh from Legolas, before he teased, "I could always warm you up. I am good at that."

A chuckle was the only answer Legolas got, a clear indication that Aragorn was tired after the long days of travel. Shaking his head, Legolas turned to the wash basin. Taking off his shirt, he poured some of the cold water into the basin, but before he dipped his hands into the water, he suddenly froze. Narrowing his eyes, he inspected the wall behind the chest of drawers carefully.

There was an iron mechanism there, looking like some tube or pipe. As he looked closer, he saw that there was a small crank on the top of it. If he considered it, the whole thing seemed to be formed like a small, tiny dragon. Running his fingers over the metal, Legolas was amazed at the fine work. But, that still did not explain what that _thing_ was doing in the wall of their room!

Gripped by curiosity, Legolas licked his lips, slowly touched the small crank, and ere he could stop himself, he twisted it to the left. To his disappointment, the crank would only be moved a small way, before it stuck. And, nothing happened at all. Wrinkling his nose adorably, he blew a strand of blond hair out of his face and tried again, this time turning the crank to the right.

As soon as the crank was turned around one time, a jet of water rushed out of the pipe, hitting the wash basin and spraying all over Legolas. Yelping, the elf jumped back in surprise, shaking his hands.

"Legolas?" Aragorn was on his feet in a moment, hurrying to Legolas's side. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Drying his hands at his pants, Legolas moved back to the pipe and quickly turned the crank to the left. The water stopped flowing, and for a few seconds only the drip, drip of water droplets running down the chest of drawers was heard.

"Does not look like nothing." Aragorn finally said, trying hard to stifle his smile when he looked at his friend. Legolas boots and trousers were dripping with water, as were his chest, arms and face. Some strands of his golden hair were wet too, clinging to his face. A lovely blush had crept up the tips of his ears, too.

"Well." Huffing a bit, Legolas eyed the device curiously. "The water that came out there was warm, Estel." If he had said that to divert the man's attention from his wet state, he succeeded marvelously.

"Warm?" Aragorn moved to stand beside Legolas, gazing at the small, dragon shaped pipe. "What is it? I have never seen something like that before." He reached out to touch the pipe, but Legolas stopped him.

"Slowly, Estel. I am already wet."

Aragorn gave him a wicked grin, but he truly did turn the crank very slowly. At first, nothing happened, but then a small dribble of water came out, then more and more, until a steady yet of water fell into the wash basin. When the basin was half full, Aragorn closed the pipe, before he held his finger into the water.

"You are right, the water is indeed warm!"

"Warm water coming out of a wall." Legolas shook his head. "If the constructors of my father's palace could see this."

Tilting his head to the side and giving Legolas a wink, Aragorn jested, "Legolas, Legolas. If I did not know better, and I do of course, I would say you just praised dwarven handiwork."

"Never." Legolas lifted his chin, pretending to be the haughty Prince, but there was a playful flicker in his eyes that Aragorn knew only too well. When Legolas turned and reached for a towel, Aragorn quickly took it out of his hands. With slow, gentle strokes he began to dry Legolas's chest and arms, smiling when the elf closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation. Once Legolas was clean and dry, Aragorn chose a fresh shirt for him, helped him to shrug into it and closed the strings.

Looking up at Legolas, Aragorn wound his arms around the elf's waist, pulling him close. "And, was it now such a bad idea to stay here for the night?"

Smiling, Legolas let his forefinger trace the outline of the man's lips, before he leaned close and whispered, "No, not at all, Estel." And then he closed the distance and kissed the man softly.

When they broke apart, Aragorn asked, "Why did you tell them that your name was Greenleaf, by the way?"

"Because that is my name, Estel." Legolas raised an eyebrow, giving Aragorn another kiss, nibbling at the man's bottom lip.

"I know that, Legolas. But why not the elvish name you normally use? Well, always use?" But before Legolas could answer, Aragorn captured the elf's mouth with his own, sucking in his tongue, stroking it with his own.

"Because," Legolas finally managed, panting for breath a bit, "I would not want the whole Palace laughing about me, staying in a dwarven inn."

"Oh Legolas." Aragorn simply said, shaking his head with an irritated grin, before he let his lips kiss Legolas again, warm and sweet and slow.

When they finally made it to the common room, the moon was high in the sky and the room packed with people. Pipe smoke hung thick in the air, low beneath the ceiling, circling the beams. Stopping on the last step, Aragorn breathed in deeply, smiling softly. For weeks he had not had a good smoke, knowing that the elves in Mirkwood hated the smell of the burning weed. This place reminded him of the Prancing Pony in Bree or even the Forsaken Inn. Smoky, warm, saturated with eating, laughing and talking people. And, he mused while he secretly took a hold of Legolas's sleeve and tugged the elf after him through the room, only few of the patrons here had ever seen a ranger. So, they were neither afraid of them, nor more suspicious than of other strangers.

They sat down on an empty, ale splattered table at the back of the room, near one of the windows. Had the glass not been so steamed, they would have been able to see the lake and the vessels that gently bobbled on the water.

On the table next to them, a group of men was playing dices for coins, being all quiet and silent, while on another table not far from them men and dwarves talked merrily. Legolas and Aragorn observed the people in the inn silently, taking it all inn. A few minutes later, a young maid reached their table, smiling at them.

"Fine evening, good Sirs." She said, wiping the wooden surface of the table with a wet cloth. "What may I bring you?"

"I think I will have a house brew." Aragorn said cheerily, raising an eyebrow at Legolas in question. The elf seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, his eyes darting to the patrons in the inn, especially the dwarves.

"Do you have wine?" He finally asked the maid, who nodded.

"Of course. We have a deep red wine from the slopes of mount Erebor, a dry rose wine made in the east and a fresh wine one from the hills of Dale."

A bit flabbergasted upon such a variety of wine, Legolas finally decided for the white wine. He smiled at Aragorn across the table, suddenly feeling more at ease than he had since entering the inn.

"What about food?" The maid asked, winking at a tall man who passed her by. "The days special is trout on a bed of seaweed, with roasted potatoes and a butter sauce."

"Sure." Aragorn readily answered and after a moment of silent contemplation, Legolas decided to try it, too.

"Just a few minutes." The maid gave her skirts a swirl and was gone, leaving the two friends alone again.

"Well." Aragorn leaned back in his chair. "Seems our guide has not exaggerated when he talked about the qualities of the Fat Fisherman. If the food tastes as good as it sounds, it could rival even the kitchens of Imladris. Never have I been in an inn that had more to offer than stew or cold food, like cheese, beef and bread."

"Neither have I." Legolas said, letting his eyes travel through the room. "They actually have three sorts of wine, Estel. Have you heard that? Three sorts! Most inn only have one, if at all."

"Aye, I heard it." Grinning, Aragorn shook his head, enjoying that Legolas was beginning to like it here. He himself had already fallen for the inn.

A few minutes later, the maid brought the ale and the wine, which were both reasonably cold, a small miracle to elf and man, who were used to stale, warm drinks. Before the maid could leave again, Aragorn asked her what was burning on his mind practically since they had entered their room. Laughing, the maid nodded her head.

"Many guests ask that. You see, the brother of the owner of the inn is a constructor. He lives and works under the mountain since the death of the dragon. When this inn was build after the destruction of the town, he planned it all. In principle it is simple. There are pipes running and all through the inn, they are between the walls, you see. All of them are laying close to the hearth, even this one." She pointed at the hearth in the corner of the room before she continued. "The water in the pipes is heated by the fires, and so it is warm when it comes out of the pipes. But don't ask me how it works in detail." She gave a quick laugh. "My employer keeps the technique a secret, does not want others to steal it." And with a wink at the two friends she was gone again.

When the food arrived, hot, steaming and smelling absolutely delicious, Aragorn and Legolas forget all other thoughts, eating with hunger. They had not even noticed how hungry they had been. Quickly, their plates were empty, cleaned up to the last bit. Sighing, Aragorn patted his belly, a contented smile on his face. Across from him, Legolas took a sip of his wine, an amused sparkle in his eyes.

"You like it here, Estel." He commented with a smile on his lips.

"Aye, I do." He stretched his long legs out in front of him, sighing when his back popped softly. Shifting on the stool until he sat more comfortably, Aragorn folded his hands in his lap. "Feels like…." He fumbled for words, not truly able to tell what this inn reminded him off.

"Home?" Legolas helped him out softly.

Aragorn locked his eyes with Legolas's, his gaze serious, but gentle. "Yes, somehow." He had really enjoyed his stay in Mirkwood, but the winter had been long and he could not deny the fact that he missed Eriador, with the rolling hills, the gurgling streams and the grassy plains. The wide open space under a grey sky, where the land was rough, and the inns sparse, smoky and more uncultured than the Palace of Mirkwood.

Knowing what Aragorn was thinking, or at least having a good guess, Legolas said nothing and merely smiled a slow smile. For the rest of the evening, the two friends enjoyed the atmosphere in the common room, planning their activities for the next day.

It was already shortly past midnight when Legolas closed and locked the door to their room, from inside. Exhausted from the journey and the evening, Aragorn flopped down on the bed, shrugged of his boots, tunic and shirt. He struggled a bit longer with the leather strings on his trousers, but finally he was victorious, taking the piece of clothing off. He threw it in the general direction of the single chair in the room, not even looking whether he hit it (which he did not). Yawning wildly, he fell back on the bed, unheeding of the creaking sound it made.

Legolas dimmed the light of the oil lamp, before he made his way over to Aragorn and sat down on the edge of the bed. He, too, took off his boot, tunic and shirt, before he shrugged out of his leggings. With a skeptical look at the size of the bed, Legolas shook his head, doused the light, and lay down next to Aragorn. The man, already half asleep, shifted to the side to make some room, but the bed was made for only a single person to lay in it. It was simply too small for the two of them and it creaked dangerously, causing Aragorn to stop all movement.

"Any ideas?" He mumbled without opening his eyes.

Legolas thought for a moment, before he nodded in the dark. Trying to move as little as possible, Legolas quickly rolled on top of Aragorn, so that he practically lay on him. A grin appeared on the man's face. "I like that." He whispered, wound his arms around Legolas, kissed him gently, and spread his legs so that his friend would lie more comfortably. Only a few minutes later, man and elf were fast asleep.

_(At the same time, in another part of the town) _

The room was shabby, the windows boarded, but inside it was warm and dry. The days full of sun had heated up the room, and although the roof was patchy at best, the heat inside the building had not yet left it.

Situated close to the southern edge of the town, the house had its own small pier, and a small vessel was bound there, alongside a bigger, if not less shabbier, boat floated there. It had once been a fine fisher boat, but the original owner had died the night of Smaug's attack and the new owners did not care for it at all. As long as it did not sink, the boat was fine enough. And proper fishing had not been done for it in years, anyway. At least not for fish or crab.

The house had once been the shop of the fisherman who had owned the boat. He had gone out every day before sunrise and returned after sunset, selling his catch from his very building. But after his death, it had lain in ruins for two years, before it had been rebuilt. But the new owners had never taken up the fishing business again, and so it had wasted away like the boat.

The small house consisted of one big room below, and some smaller rooms under the roof. Dust heaped in the corners and spider webs clung to the corners, with small black spiders crawling hither and yonder. Here and there the water of the lake shimmered through loose floorboards, and the spindly stairs that led to the higher rooms looked as shabby as the rest of the house.

But all of that did not concern the four men who lived in here. Fisherman they had been, always on the search for a fresh catch. Their houses and vessels had been destroyed in the attack of the dragon, and therewith their business had been destroyed as well. They had never taken up their old trade again, not with the bigger and faster ships that had been built by the wealthy fishermen of the town after the destruction of Smaug. They had known that they would never have the means or the will to compete with these fishermen.

So, they had taken up residence in the abandoned house, claimed the old ship as theirs, and begun from scratch. They were day laborers, working form the hand into the mouth. While the town blossomed around them, getting richer and more beautiful with every day, the four men stayed in the shabby house, working for a living when necessary, not joining in the wealth the trade brought Lake-town.

But that did not mean that they were not still looking for the one great catch. The catch that would make them rich, that would change their lot and let them lead the lives they were dreaming of. Oh, they had big plans, and they knew that one day, one day something would happen that would make their dreams come true.

The door to the house opened with a swoosh, clanging loudly against the wall. A strained voice called inside, "Hey! Rory! Madoc! Willie! I could need some help here!" The sounds of someone stumbling inside the house was heard, followed by some loud curses. "Darn! Where are ye? I need some hands down 'ere!"

"Coming!" A second voice called from somewhere above and in the next second a broad shouldered man walked down the creaking steps, causing dust to fall to the ground with every step he took. He grinned at the man who had just entered, stopping right in front of him. "Now look at ye. Where did you borrow _that_ from, Nibs?"

The man called Nibs grunted something, before he took another shaky step inside. "Care to help?" He asked angrily, glaring at the other man.

With a laugh, the other man reached out and took some of the things Nibs carried out of his arms. Metal chains dangled to the ground, scraping the wooden boards. A few nails fell to the ground out of a damaged box, but neither of the man bothered to pick them up.

"Thanks Madoc, about time you helped." Nibs said dryly, before he took a deep breath and stomped over to a corner of the big room, carrying a huge wooden box that had seen better times. He shoved it on top of some other boxes that already stood in the corner, causing them to creak dangerously. Following him, Madoc let the metal chains he carried clatter to the ground.

"Now Nibs, where did you get this stuff?" He asked scratching his bearded chin.

Nibs wiped a hand across his sweaty brow, before he shrugged, "Borrowed it down at the piers this morning."

"Borrowed?" Madoc looked at him skeptically, before he shook his head. "How many times do I have to tell you that your _borrowing_ will get us in trouble one of these days?" Looking around, Madoc found a rusty knife and began to wedge the wooden box Nibs had brought open. "And how many times do I have to tell you that we only borrow _late_ at night when no one is looking, huh?"

Shifting, the slightly younger Nibs tried to defend himself, "No one was looking, Madoc. I was careful. And anyway, once you see what I got, you will thank me!"

"We'll see." Madoc said, fumbling with the nails that held the wooden box closed. "Bloody hell, did _you_ close this box?" He asked irritated when the blade of the old knife broke off under his fingers.

"Nope, one of the pier workers did. I borrowed it right under his eyes." Nibs said, poking out his breast a bit.

Madoc turned around, eyeing him seriously, the broken knife still in hand, "I thought no one saw you?"

The healthy red color drained a bit from Nibs's face. Taking a step back, he shrugged again, "No one did, I mean, no one saw me, really."

Madoc gave Nibs another long look, before he turned around to the box, prying the broken blade between two of the boxe's boards, "They better had not."

While Madoc tried his luck with the box, Nibs wiped his shirt across his still sweaty brow. It was warm inside the house, and he longed to go outside again to catch some of the fresh breeze that from now and then rushed across the lake. Flopping down on an old stool, he cast a look around.

"Where are Rory and Willie?" He asked Madoc, who had his back turned towards him.

"They are doing some real work, down at the butcher's. Should be back soon" Madoc grunted, putting all his weight against the knife to open the box. The box creaked a bit and shuddered, but it would not yet give in.

Rubbing his belly, a grin forming on Nibs's face, "So that means meat tonight!" Although he lived in Lake-town, a town based on fishery, he had no love for fish. Meat was expensive and hunting in the surrounding forests was prohibited by the major, and a beggar could not be choosy. But fish day after day…that would make even the most fish loving person years for some good piece of pork, or beef, or deer, or whatever that did not come right from the lake.

But his hopes were crushed quickly, for Madoc shook his head, "I told them not to steal something today."

"What? Why?" Nibs almost yelled in frustration, jumping from his stool. They stole everything they needed, or _borrowed_ it, as he liked to call it. So why not today, when they were working at the butcher's?

"Because," Madoc turned around to him, his face now as red as Nibs's, "we need not draw attention to us now that we are so close." He practically pierced Nibs with his look, "Understood? No more borrowing in bright daylight! No more pick pocketing now. I do not want all the work we have done these last months to be for naught."

Nibs swallowed uncomfortably, but he nodded nevertheless. "Yes Madoc." He let his head hang a bit, thinking of the many things he had seen at the piers that very morning. Things that they could need for their own business or that they could sell. And he thought of the travelers that entered the town every day, ready to be robbed.

"Good." Madoc turned around to the box. "Then make sure you do not forget it. Oh, and Nibs?" Madoc said without turning around. "No more drinking and making trouble. And now give me a hand here, will you?"

Sighing, Nibs made his way over to Madoc. "I never make trouble when drunk." He grumbled under his breath, but Madoc heard him nevertheless.

"Course not, Nibs. Never." But there was a small flicker of mocking in his eyes. That was maybe the only thing that Nibs was really good at (besides robbing travelers of course and borrowing things). No one could be really angry at him for a long time. Whether it was his red hair or the freckles around his nose that made him look younger than the thirty something years that he was old, no one knew. But a fact was that not even Madoc, who sometimes possessed a bad temper, could be really mad at him.

Together, the two men worked to open the box, but when the nails would not give, they simply lifted it and then let it crash to the ground. The lid burst open, and when Madoc finally saw what it was that Nibs had _borrowed_, his eyes gleamed.

"Nibs, that is perfect."

Beaming, Nibs nodded his head. "Knew you would like it. Finest winch I have ever seen. And I heard the fisherman talk about it. It will hold more weight than most others."

Placing an arm around Nibs's shoulders, Madoc shook him lightly, "As I said, perfect. With this thing on the platform, we will have no problems getting the treasure up to the surface."

"Once we found it and have found a way to breathe under water." Nibs commented, but Madoc waved his hand through the air dismissively.

"One problem at a day, my friend." Giving the iron winch another look, he tilted his head to the side with a glimmer in his eyes. "We could fit it into the construction tomorrow, as long as the weather is so fine. And then we will find a solution to the breathing-under-water-problem. Actually," Madoc gazed at Nibs with a huge grin on his face, "I think I have already an idea."

While Madoc explained his idea to the other man, who's eyes became as wide as saucers while he listened, the two men disposed the wooden box and hid the winch under some old sails. Then, they waited for their friends to return home. There was much to plan and discuss.

Once Rory and Willie returned (without any _borrowed _meat, as Nibs noticed dejectedly), Madoc reported about the borrowed winch and his idea. Rory and Willie where as enthusiastic as Nibs had been, but when the first stars glimmered in the sky and a bottle of liquid had passed around more than once, Willie asked skeptically, "And how are we supposed to find such a thing you spoke of? This…bubble something thing?"

Taking a deep swig from the bottle, Madoc scratched his chin, "We can build it ourselves. All we need is leather, cord, some fisher nets, iron weights…"

Burping, Nibs shook his red haired head, "No problem. We can get all those things easily." He reached for the bottle, gulping down the last few drops.

Taking a deep breath, Madoc looked around at the gleaming faces of his companions, "Well, then all we need is someone to test it once it is finished."

Silence settled over the room, and uneasy looks were exchanged. Then, slowly, all eyes turned to Nibs, the youngest of the group. Even as drunken as he was, Nibs noticed that something was not right. He shook his head quickly, "I won't test it. Never. I'm not suicidal!"

Madoc sighed, but then he shrugged. "One of us will have to, Nibs, and you are the lightest of us. But, "He added quickly when he saw Nibs' rejecting expression, "we can talk about this later."

"Later is good." Willie lulled, then simply flopped down flat on his back, closed his eyes and fell asleep in minutes.

And so they did not speak anymore about Madoc's idea that night. The next morning, while Madoc and Willie set out to fit the new winch into the construction, Nibs and Rory went to find some work, always keeping their eyes open for fisher nets, iron weights, leather and cord.

To be continued


	4. 4 Sight Seeing

Chapter 4: Sight seeing

Breakfast the next day was a quick affair, for Aragorn and Legolas were eager to visit the town. It was a cloudless day, warm and sunny. Soon they found out that the streets of the town were only so packed during the early hours of morning, when the inhabitants left the town to work on the surrounding fields, and early in the evening, when they all returned home. They spent the morning walking the docks and the outskirts of the town. Legolas was fascinated by the lake; its sounds and smells stirred something in him, and although it was not very strong, Legolas could hardly pull himself away from the surface of the water that sparkled in the bright sunlight.

Hundreds of boats, small and large swam hither and yonder, most of them followed by white gulls, which were eager to snatch a piece of crab or fish. Around midday, the two friends sat down on one of the smaller bridges that seemed to be less frequented. They had brought something to eat with them, and while they ate cheese and fruits, they watched the lake.

"To think that this town was utterly destroyed not that many years ago…" Shaking his head, Aragorn took a sip out of his water flask.

Legolas nodded. "Most of the town was destroyed when Smaug raged that night. His fire burned down many houses and his tail destroyed even more. Or so I have been told."

"Have the Woodelves helped to rebuilt the town?" Turning to take a look at his friend and narrowing his eyes against the bright sunlight, Aragorn added, "Or the surrounding forests and meadows?"

"We tried." Legolas said, shrugging. "The humans allowed us to help, but after what had happened that day they seemed to only trust themselves. So we gave them wood, tools and all the things they would need, and left it at that. They built the town by themselves. We only provided them with the things they would need to do so."

Legolas stared out across the lake, and Aragorn could not help quipping, "Surely it did not help that most of the humans, and dwarves, thought your father was only interested in the gold of Smaug's lair."

To his surprise, Legolas was not offended. He shrugged again, turning his face into the sun, "No, it did not help. But ah well, me made a compromise, did we not?" A smile played around Legolas's lips, "The wine they sell is really delicious."

Laughing, Aragorn patted his friend on the shoulder, before he swallowed the last piece of cheese. His gaze went out to the lake, and he shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand. "Have you noticed that all the ships are merchant's vessels? Or fisher boats? I have seen not a single armed ship." His voice sounded curious and disbelieving at once.

"They have no need for warships, Estel. Who should attack them?"

Frowning, Aragorn shrugged, "You never know. What if they are attacked from the South? They could use the ships to bare the way to the town and defend themselves."

"Only orcs roam these parts of Arda. And orcs do not come with ships." Legolas responded, turning his face to look at his friend.

"The town lies at a strategic point, mellon nin. And it is rich. The only way to Erebor, too. The enemies of the dwarves and of Dale have to pass through here. I have seen neither soldiers nor battlements of any kind. Their only protection is the lake, and they leave it absolutely unguarded." The man's voice sounded torn between disappointment and eagerness to change that fact, and when Legolas saw Aragorn's eyes, he could see that the man was truly bothered by the lack of defense.

He had not even thought about the fact that none of the ships here were armed. A small stab pierced his heart when he realized that Aragorn would think if the defense of the town first, and only then its beauty. The years he had spend with the rangers seemed to have changed his priorities from that of a young man into those of a warrior.

"They know how to protect themselves, I am sure." He tried to sooth his friend. When he saw that it did not work, Legolas shrugged and smiled, "And well. Everyone who wants to fight Esgaroth, or Dale or…Erebor, has to fight us, first. And the elves of Mirkwood will not be so easily defeated."

His words had the desired effect, and when Aragorn tilted his head to the side, nodding reluctantly, Legolas shoved him gently with his shoulder. Aragorn smiled minutely, sighing.

"What are we going to do next?" Aragorn asked in an attempt to change the subject. He shrugged out of his tunic and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. The sun was glaring form the sky and it was already as warm as on any summer's day.

"We could visit the town center." Legolas said without turning his face away from the sun. "I have heard they have a fountain there in the form of a Hobbit."

The fountain was not depicting a Hobbit, but a ship, riding on a huge wave. The sails of the ship were filled with wind, while spray splashed around the bow. The whole fountains had been chiseled out of white granite, and even Legolas had to admit that it was a masterpiece of work. For the rest of the day the two explored the town, from East to West and North to South. They visited a shop that sold jewelry made out of fishbone, one that had paper made out of seaweed, bought fish roasted on wooden sticks, listened to an old woman retell the defeat of Smaug to a group of children and ended the day with a dinner in a small inn near the center of the town.

When night fell and the lights went on in the town, they slowly made their way back to the inn, secretly holding hands in the dark. They walked in silence, enjoying the nightly stroll. The moon shone bright from the star covered sky, and they had almost reached the inn, when Aragorn spoke for the first time.

"Legolas?"

"Aye?" The reply was soft, happy.

"I am glad you came here with me."

Legolas stopped in his tracks, causing Aragorn to stop too and turn around to face his friend. Moving closer, Legolas smiled at him, "I am glad, too." And then he leaned in quickly, kissing Aragorn, before he continued down the road.

After a few moments, Aragorn sighed deeply, "Really a shame that we will have to pack our things now and go looking for a new inn."

"A new inn?" Legolas asked, a little bit confused. Why should they now go looking for another inn to stay the night inn?

"Well," Aragorn spread his arms dramatically, "we said that we would only stay one night in the Fat Fisherman, did we not?" He looked at Legolas with laughter in his eyes, knowing full well that the elf liked the inn, with the good wine, the warm water and the wonderful view over the lake.

It was silent for a moment, but then Legolas answered. "Maybe we can stay another night. It will be late when we reach the inn, anyway. Too late to search for something new." And when their eyes met, he gave Aragorn a look that brooked no argument. A barking laugh was the only answer Legolas got, and they stayed the night in the Fat Fisherman, and the next and the one after that, without the topic of changing the inn ever being raised again.

They returned to the inn one night after having spent the day strolling through the town and enjoying the grassy banks of the lake in the late afternoon sun. The warm and sunny weather had not changed yet, although the older people in town gossiped about a coming storm, saying that they felt it in their bones.

While Legolas sat down on the bed to unlace his boots, Aragorn shrugged out of his sweaty shirt, tossing it to the floor. They had been in the sun the whole day, and his body felt warm and sweaty, making him long for a good bath. Or a good wash, seeing that they had not the means to bath here. Making his way over to the washbasin, he filled it with water from the pitcher instead of the warm water from pipe. He was just cupping water into his hands, when there was an audible gasp behind him.

Turning quickly, Aragorn asked concerned, "Legolas?"

Too his surprise, Legolas had gotten up from the bed, one boot still attached to his foot, while the other dangled in his hand. His bright blue eyes were fixed on Aragorn's chest, wide and worried.

"Legolas?" Uncertainty swung in his voice, and when Legolas merely stared at him, Aragorn looked down at his chest. When he saw nothing out of the ordinary, he shook his head in utter confusion. "Legolas? What?"

"Your chest…your arms." Frowning in concern, Legolas hobbled over to where Aragorn stood, dropping his boot to the floor. He reached out almost tentatively, letting his fingers brush softly across Aragorn's bare chest, then his arms. "Does this not hurt? What happened?"

Now totally at a loss, Aragorn took Legolas's hands in his, stilling their movements. "What are you talking about? Legolas, are you feeling alright? Maybe the mussels you had for dinner were not as fresh as they looked."

"If _I_ am alright?" Legolas looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "It is not _my_ skin that looks like a lobster that was too slow to escape the cook!" Freeing his hands out of Aragorn's hold, Legolas traced his hand down the man's biceps. The momentary upset gave way to concern quickly, "This must hurt, Estel."

Still a bit confused, Aragorn looked at his arm, and after a few moments he finally understood what Legolas meant. Even in the dim light of the candles that burned in the room, he could make out the exact spot where his shirt sleeve had begun. The sun had tanned his skin a golden hue over the last few days, but today they had been close to the water, with little shade. He had gotten a minor sunburn, one which he had not even felt until now.

Releasing a laughing sigh, Aragorn smiled at his friend, "That is nothing to worry about, Legolas. It will be gone by morning."

"So you know what this is?" Gazing at Aragorn, Legolas tilted his head to the side to inspect the skin once more. "It looks ugly."

"Ha, you should have seen me when I was ten and the twins took me to one of the smaller lakes one summer. I was as red as a strawberry." Aragorn laughed, turning back to the water basin once more.

"So, this has happened before?" He touched Aragorn once more, very softly, so as if he was afraid to hurt him. "Your skin feels warm, as if you have a fever." Curiosity now mingled with concern.

"Aye, happens every summer, more or less." Aragorn mumbled, before he dunked his head right into the bowl of water. When he emerged a few moments later, Legolas handed him a towel.

"Every summer?"

"Yes." Running the towel across his face, Aragorn shrugged. "Usually at the beginning. Later, my skin is used to the sun." He began to wash, and his unworried state of mind caused Legolas to return to the bed, where he resumed to shrug out of his boot.

"Then, what is it? The sun does this to you?" He asked, placing his boots neatly next to each other in front of the bed.

Now freshly cleaned and cooled, Aragorn rummaged in his pack for a new tunic. "Don't tell me you have never seen a sunburn, Legolas?" He asked incredulously. "I know elves can get them, my brothers used to get them, too. Not very bad, mind you, but they did get them."

"No, I have not." Unbraiding his braids slowly, Legolas shrugged. "But I have heard of it, now that I think about it. But I have never seen one." He was silent for a moment, then added, "You know, the sun rarely touches the ground of Mirkwood, and the boughs of the trees, where the sun reaches, are infested with spiders. No one goes there." There was a sad undertone in his voice, causing Aragorn to look up.

"Legolas, I…" He did not know what to say, and so he went over to sit next to his friend. Wordlessly, he began to unwind the other braid. After a few moments of silence, he said softly, "One day the sun will shine on Mirkwood again, my friend. And then you and all your friends will get horrible sunburns, the ones that really hurt and have to be treated with milk and salves. And I, I will mother you to no end."

Letting his hands sink into his lap, Legolas smiled at Aragorn and shoved him with his shoulder, "Promise?"

"I promise."

Smiling, Legolas nodded his head, before he reached out and gently brushed a slender finger down Aragorn's still naked chest, "It does not hurt then?"

"No, at least not yet. It will probably in a few hours." Looking down at his slightly red arms, Aragorn wrinkled his nose, "And then it will start to itch terribly."

"Hm…then I think I will have to come up with something to distract you from the pain, my fearless warrior." Legolas smirked at Aragorn, leaning closer. "Would you like that?"

"Aye, very much so." And before Aragorn had even realized what had happened, Legolas had flopped him down on the bed, straddling him. The elf's blond hair fell around his face, and when Legolas leaned down and gently kissed first the right, and then the left nipple, Aragorn felt a heat surge through him that had nothing to do with his sunburn.

Over the next few days, the weather stayed warm and pleasant. The white blossoms on the trees slowly fell to the ground, leaving fresh green leaves behind. The sheep and other farm animals grazed on the hills and meadows, while the farmers worked on the fields. After having explored most of the town, Legolas and Aragorn lent a small ship one morning, to paddle out on the lake and watch the town from the water.

Neither of them had any experience in steering a boat, but they did the best they could and kept close to the town or the banks of the lake. The sun burned down mercilessly, but the wind that rushed across the lake made the heat bearable. Without many mishaps they paddled around the town and then up the lake.

While it was Legolas turn on the rudders, Aragorn let his hands glide through the water. It was cold, almost freezing beside the heat of the day, and he wondered idly what it would feel like to take a swim. He would probably freeze before he had taken even a few strokes.

Around midday they steered towards the western bank of the lake, towed their boat and walked along the shore. They had not gone far when Legolas sat down and shrugged out of his leather boots, curling his toes into the sand. After a moment Aragorn sat down next to him, drawing his knees towards his chest and wrapping his arms loosely around them. They looked over the water for some time, enjoying the peace and stillness of the spot.

The lake was not as wide so far to the north, and even Aragorn could make out the orchards on the other side. When he turned his gaze northwards, he could see Erebor, its snowy peak glistening in the sunlight. To both their sides lay the sandy banks of the lake, and behind them a small forest grew, with young trees and green bushes, brambles and some wild strawberries.

Sighing contentedly, Legolas leaned back, stretching out on the warm sand. He gazed up into the almost cloudless sky, a small smile on his face. Turning to look at Legolas, Aragorn gave his friend's leg a nudge with his boot.

"Happy?"

Legolas's smile widened. „Aye."

"Good." Aragorn leaned back, too, but instead of sinking down into the sand, he scooted closer to Legolas, laying his head on the elf's shoulder. On impulse, Legolas stretched out his arm so that Aragorn would lie more comfortably.

They stayed at the bank of the river for the rest of the afternoon, talking and joking and being happy to be together. When the wind became colder and the sun weaker, they got up reluctantly and walked slowly back to their boat. Legolas, his boots still in his hand rather than on his feet, let his gaze wander across the lake and the countryside, before he sat down next to the boat to shrug into his boots.

While he waited, Aragorn gazed at the sky, his keen eyes traveling northwards, towards the beginning of the lake and the sky above. "There will be a storm soon, Legolas. The sky darkens."

Gazing into the same direction, Legolas nodded, "But not for some days yet. Maybe three, four days till the storm reaches us." Legolas proceeded to bind his boots, tugging at the leather strings to tighten them around his calves.

Aragorn reached into the boat to take a sip of water from his flask, when he suddenly stopped in his movements. Tilting his head to the side, he listened for a moment, then asked, "Did you hear that, Legolas?"

Without looking up, the elf smiled, "Aye. I can hear it since a rather long time, my friend."

"Oh." Aragorn made, for a moment having forgotten the elf's superior hearing. He listened for a moment longer, "Sounds like…barking."

Having put the right boot onto his foot, Legolas reached for his left boot, then nodded, "Aye. Barking and human voices. They are coming from down the lake."

Aragorn shrugged and finally found the water flask he had been searching for. He had just uncorked it, when Legolas suddenly turned rigid, his boot forgotten. Frowning, Aragorn looked at him, "Legolas? What…"

"Sshh." Legolas made, his face a mask of concentration. He tilted his head to the side to be better able to listen, then his eyes went suddenly wide. "Someone is screaming. A child. They need help." Legolas said, trying to get to his feet, but being hindered by his boot that was halfway on his foot.

"Where exactly?" Aragorn asked, already a few steps down the bank.

"At the water somewhere." Legolas said, quickly binding the leather strings around his calf. "I can hear water splashing."

And before he had the chance to say more, Aragorn sprinted away down the bank of the lake, into the direction Legolas had pointed out to him. Sand flew into the air behind him, and Aragorn could hear Legolas call something after him, but he did not really listen. Legolas had said that someone needed help, and that was all that mattered at the moment.

Running down the bank, Aragorn tried to hear what Legolas had heard, and the further he ran, the clearer the voices became. Soon, he could hear the barking of a dog, and then the frightened scream of a woman.

Quickening his steps, Aragorn burst through a small natural hedge consisting of brambles, unheeding of the small scratches he received in the process. Running on, sure that Legolas would be close behind him soon, Aragorn racked his mind what could have happened to those people at the bank so that they would need help. The pommel of his sword slapped reassuringly against his hip with every step, but when Aragorn finally reached the site of trouble, he was not prepared in the slightest for the sight before him.

There, on a huge rock to his right crouched a woman, a small child in her arm. The child cried loudly and Aragorn wondered why he had not heard its wails sooner, so loud were they. But that was not what caught his attention. To his left stood a mighty tree, one of the few that had survived the fire of the dragon. And on one of the lower branches of the tree sat a small boy, maybe ten years of age. He had crawled across the branch so that he was not above the water of the lake. The boy was terrified, Aragorn could tell. And a moment later, he also new why the boy and the woman were so afraid.

A low growl came from his right, and when Aragorn turned around quickly, his eyes fell on an almost starved dog. The dog was big, but not overly so, and it had its fangs barred, showing yellow teeth. Slobber dribbled from its snout, and it took a menacing step towards Aragorn, growling.

Slowly, so as not to frighten the stray dog, Aragorn reached down and loosened his sword in its sheath. But he knew that it would do no good, the dog was already too close to him to safely draw the weapon. There was simply no time and any quick movement would cause the dog to attack.

Hoping that Legolas was close, Aragorn raised his hands in what he hoped was a placating gesture for the wild animal, and slowly backed away. The dog followed him, lowering its head. It growled again, then suddenly barked loudly, causing the woman to scream again in fear. Accordingly, Aragorn could hear the boy gasp and shift on the branch.

Never leaving the dog out of his sight, Aragorn a few more steps backwards, stepping into the shadow of the tree. For a moment he considered jumping into the tree so as to avoid the dog, but he feared that he would not be quick enough. He cast a quick look over the dog's back, hoping to see Legolas burst from the bushes, and when he looked back he saw that he dog had crouched down, ready to pounce.

He took another step back, his eyes searching for something to defend himself. He could almost see the madness in the eyes of the animal, and with sudden clarity he saw the white foam that sprinkled the dog's snout and fell to the ground. The dog had rabies! Now really worried, Aragorn took a deep breath. He could not escape to his right, for there was nothing but the bank of the lake, to his left stood the tree and behind him was the lake. He did not doubt that he dog would follow him into the water.

Another deep growl came from the dog, followed by some howls and barks. Again wondering where Legolas was, Aragorn took another step backwards. To his utter surprise his foot slipped on a root of the tree, and while he felt his body fall backwards, he saw the dog howl and jump. It flew towards him, fangs barred and eyes glowing. In instinct Aragorn raised his arm to protect his throat, feeling his head connect sharply with the stem of the tree.

The weight of the dog slammed into him, robbing his breath. There was a yelp, some shuffling of the dog, but the blinding pain that Aragorn was waiting for never came. Confused, his head pounding, Aragorn peered at the dog, only to stare into its dead eyes .

A moment later, the worried face of Legolas appeared in his line of vision. Clear blue eyes looked down at him. "Strider? Are you well? Did it bite you?"

Shaking his head, Aragorn peered at the dog, catching sight of the yellow feathered arrow sticking from the dogs neck. "No, I'm fine. It did not bite me."

A relieved smile appeared on Legolas's face, and with the help of the elf, Aragorn rolled the now dead dog off of him. Aragorn got to his feet, while Legolas shouldered his bow and made his way over to the woman, who was just now trying to climb down from the rock without letting her child fall to the ground.

As soon as Aragorn was on his feet, his vision swam slightly. Moaning under his breath, he touched the back of his head, where he had hit the tree. He felt no blood, but a small bump was already forming. Grimacing, Aragorn leaned against the tree, taking a deep breath. A small sound coming from above him made him look up startled. Which he should not have done, for almost instantly he felt his head pound, a sharp pain shooting through his skull.

Blinking, he gazed up nevertheless. The boy was still perched on top of the branch, not having moved a muscle it seemed. Smiling in what he hoped was a friendly gesture and not the pained grimace he feared it would be, Aragorn called out to him, "He cannot hurt you anymore, boy. You can come down now."

The boy looked at the dog, then back at his mother, then towards Aragorn. His lips trembled a bit, "I can't."

"The dog is dead, lad. Come down now." Aragorn tried again, opening his arm, "I will catch you should you fall."

But the boy shook his head and hugged the branch he was sitting on. "I can't." His eyes were scared, and he seemed unable to move at all. Behind him, Aragorn could hear Legolas talk to the woman, who in turn tried to calm the young child. Turning back to the boy, Aragorn smiled once more, "Now, you are a big boy already, are you not? You climbed up that tree, so you can climb down again."

"No, I'm…"

Aragorn never heard what the boy wanted to say, for in that moment the boy slipped. With fear crossing his young face the boy fell from the branch, landing in the lake with a loud splash. The fall was not high, and Aragorn was sure that it had not hurt the boy. That was, until the woman suddenly called out to him, "He cannot swim! My boy cannot swim!"

Without turning around, Aragorn sprinted towards the water, and without another thought he waded quickly into the water. He had to swim quickly for the bank of the lake dropped away almost instantly. The coldness of the water crushed his chest, and he worried for the boy. After a few strokes he reached the spot where the boy had fallen, took a deep breath and dived under the surface.

With the clear water and the sun shining from above, Aragorn quickly caught sight of the boy. The young lad struggled to reach the surface, his eyes wide. Grabbing a hold of his shirt, Aragorn hauled him towards him, and together they swam for the surface. The weight of the boy threatened to pull him down, but Aragorn was a good swimmer, and in but a few moments they burst through the surface and into the bright sunshine. The boy spluttered and coughed, taking deep breaths. His arms and legs flailed about, hitting Aragorn squarely in the face.

"Hold still, I have you." He said, but the boy did not seem to hear him. His arms flapped around, and his elbow hit Aragorn on the nose. Growling, Aragorn took a hold of the boys arm, while he tried not to go under. "Still now, lad. I have you." Slowly, the boy calmed down, and they finally began to swim back to the bank, where Legolas and the mother were already waiting for them. The young child had stopped crying, resting securely in her mother's arms.

They reached the bank, and Legolas took hold of the by now shaking boy. With a pounding head and his clothing clinging to his body, Aragorn dragged himself onto the shore. There he sat down, wiped his wet hair out of his face and watched mother and son reunite happily. The woman thanked Legolas for saving them from the dog, then she thanked Aragorn for helping their son, and ere the two friends knew what happened, she took the boy by the arm and led him down the road, claiming that their camp was not far, together with some blankets to dry the boy.

They quickly vanished down the path, leaving Aragorn and Legolas alone. While the elf retrieved his arrow, only to throw it away a moment later when he saw that the shaft was cracked, Aragorn fingered his nose. It throbbed rather annoyingly.

After a moment, Legolas crouched down beside him, looking at him worriedly. "How are you? Did the dog really not bite you?"

"No." Aragorn said somewhat pressed, still touching his nose. There was no blood and he was sure that it was not broken, but that did not mean that it did not hurt. Not to mention his head, which hurt rather annoyingly, too. Or the fact that the water of the lake had been freezing, and he felt as if he was slowly turning into an ice statue.

"Here, let me." Legolas suddenly said, and gently peeled Aragorn's hands away from his face. The elf's long fingers touched his nose, but although Legolas tried to be as gentle as he could, even the slightest touch hurt. With a moan, Aragorn pulled his head back.

"I'm sorry." Legolas let his hands fall away. "But I do not think that it is broken. Maybe a bit bruised."

"Aw." Aragorn made, touching the brick of his nose and stroking downwards slowly. He looked down his nose, "Is it still straight? It seems….crooked."

"Yes, your nose is still straight." Leaning forwards, Legolas eyed the man's nose first from the left sight, then the right. He narrowed his blue eyes slightly, a glimmer of mischief in them "Well, maybe a little crooked."

His eyes widening, Aragorn gave Legolas a mock hurt glance, before he looked down his nose again. He looked and looked, and then suddenly blinked furiously, shaking his head. "Do you really think so?"

"No, Aragorn." Laughing, Legolas got to his feet and reached down to help the man up. Once on his feet, Aragorn swayed slightly, causing Legolas to grip his arm more tightly. The look of mischief quickly turned into one of worry. "Estel, are you alright?"

Grimacing slightly, Aragorn nodded, "Just hit my head on the tree when the dog fell on me. I will be fine, do not worry."

He straightened up, taking a deep breath. Aragorn's gaze wandered to the dead dog, and his eyes became pitiful. "That poor creature."

"He was ill, Estel. He would have killed all of us, given the chance." Legolas said, eying the dog with sad eyes. Being an elf, he had a love for all of the Valar's creatures in his heart, and he did not like having to kill them, even if it was necessary to safe someone. "Are we going to bury him?"

Sighing, Aragorn shrugged his shoulders. They had no means to bury the dog, and it was getting dark. Soon, it would be too dark to return to the town by boat, and the man really did not relish the thought of walking back to Lake-town. The way was not that long, but with his wet clothing, he would surely catch a cold. If it was not too late to avoid that anyway.

"We do not have the means, Legolas." Aragorn shivered slightly, and wrapped his arms around his chest to preserve some warmth. With the sun close to the horizon, the air was getting colder, and the wind that was coming from the lake was freezing him even more.

"We should get back to the boat." Legolas finally said. "It will be dark soon and we need to go back to the town." He looked at Aragorn's shivering form , frowning. "And you need some dry clothing, quickly, otherwise you might get ill." With the sun setting behind the trees on the other side of the Long Lake, Aragorn and Legolas slowly made they way back to the boat.

They had barely gone a few steps when Legolas wordlessly wrapped his arm around Aragorn's middle, pulling the man close to him. His voice was soft and gentle, "And I will have a look at that head of yours. Thickheaded you might be, but even you are not match for a tree, mellon nin."

Snorting softly under his breath, Aragorn leaned into the welcome touch of the elf. He was cold, his head was hurting, and the mere thought of having to row back to the town was making him tired. So, he said nothing, and let Legolas lead him alongside the bank of the lake, secure in his strong arms.

Once back at the inn, Legolas had to practically drag Aragorn up the stairs, for the young ranger was frozen to the bone. On their way back, the wind that had blown across the water of the lake had made the man shiver and tremble, and not even the feeble attempt at keeping warm through rowing had helped. Legolas had tried to get them back as quickly as possible, feeling his worry for his friend increase with every minute.

The fact that Aragorn's headache got increasingly worse, too, did nothing to alleviate Legolas' worry at all. Taking care that Aragorn did not stumble over his own two feet, Legolas helped the man up the stairs in the inn that would lead to their room. Closing the door behind them, Legolas led Aragorn over to the bed, letting the man sink down heavily on it. Quickly, the elf moved around the room, closing the curtains, filling the washing basin with warm water from the tube, lighting the candles on the small table and heating up the coals in the corner. The sun had heated the room over the day, and for once Legolas was glad that the wooden walls kept the warmth so well.

When he turned back to Aragorn, the young ranger was just trying to open the strings at the neck of his shirt, but his fingers were stiff and cold, refusing to cooperate. With worry shining in his eyes, Legolas sank to his knees in front of Aragorn, gently batted Aragorn's hands away, and opened the shirt. It fell to the floor in a wet heap, quickly followed by the sodden boots and trousers.

With a cloth that he had wetted in the warm water, Legolas washed Aragorn's chest and arms, hoping to warm the man up a bit. When Aragorn finally crawled under the covers, his face had taken on a rosy tint, but he was still shivering from time to time. The water of the lake had been freezing, and the long way back to the inn had not helped.

After some moments of hesitation, Legolas shrugged out of his own clothing, lifted the corner of the blanket and slid under the covers. He snuggled close to Aragorn's naked back, wrapping one arm around the man. They stayed like this for some moments, both silent, but then a soft snort of laughter reached Legolas's ears.

"This could only happen to me. Maybe my brothers are right and my middle name is disaster."

Smiling at the joke, Legolas placed a kiss on Aragorn's shoulder blade, "It was a very brave thing you did, Estel."

A shiver raced through Aragorn's body, causing Legolas to snuggle even closer. Supressing a sneeze, Aragorn shook his head tiredly, "How can a boy live in Lake-town and not be able to swim? That his parents could be so irresponsible is beyond me."

"He was lucky that you were there." Giving Aragorn's shoulder another kiss, Legolas bedded his head on his other arm. When Aragorn had jumped into the water to rescue the boy, he had not really been concerned for his friend. He knew that Aragorn was a really good swimmer, having been teached how to swim at a very young age. Given the fact that there were more rivers and streams in Imladris than houses, that had probably been the only way to assure that the reckless child Estel had been ever saw adulthood.

"Yes, he was." Aragorn sighed, and Legolas felt the man relax gradually. "And I was lucky that you were there, Legolas. That dog would have killed me, or seriously injured me."

"Aye, it would have." Legolas returned seriously, but not unfriendly. "How many times do I have to tell you to not run blindly into danger, Estel? Always make sure that you have someone to guard your back in case it gets dirty."

"I know." Aragorn mumbled under his breath, having heard this particular phrase more than once in his life. "But I knew you had my back, Legolas. You always have."

"There might come a time when I cannot stand at your side, Estel. When I cannot guard your back." Legolas said, tracing a finger across Aragorn's arm to take the sting and foreboding out of his words. "I think I would not be able to sleep at all, knowing that you are alone out there, reckless and unheeding of danger."

"I am not…" Aragorn tried to protest, but Legolas quickly shushed him.

"I know that you are not reckless, Estel. But sometimes you are simply more concerned about others than yourself. And that makes you vulnerable. Just promise me to be more cautious in the future."

Sighing, Aragorn nodded his head. "I will try."

"That is all I ask." Legolas continued to stroke Aragorn's arm, feeling the warmth flood back into the man's body. Soon, the deep, steady breathing of the man told Legolas that he had fallen asleep, tired after the day's events. When Legolas was assured enough that Aragorn was well, he blew out the candles in the room, before he let his eyes glaze over in elvish sleep.

-oOo-

_(at the other end of the town)_

Inside the house it was sticky and warm, and so the three men had taken to sit outside, with the breeze of the night calming their sweaty bodies. They had worked hard today, getting the construction to work properly. The new winch had to be tested, and when it had worked as it should, the four men had clasped their shoulders in congratulation. All was it should, and over the last few days thay had managed to 'borrow' most of the things they would need. Leather and iron weights, leather and more cord. The only thing that was now missing were some thick fishermen nets

Nibs had been working on that particular obstacle, but only that day he had been caught by some fishermen while had tried sneak up on a boat to steal the nets. The town-keepers had arrested him, sentencing him to a week in the town prison. None of the three friends was worried for Nibs, knowing that it was not the first time that he man saw a prison cell from the inside, and they were reasonably sure that it would not be the last time either. As soon as Nibs would be released, the man would go looking for another opportunity to 'borrow' some nets from an unsuspecting fisherman.

Sighing contentedly, Madoc took a deep swig from the bottle of liquid in his hands. "Soon, my friends, soon it will be ours, and then we will have enough gold to leave this place. Start somewhere new. A new life."

Grinning foolishly, Willie took a swig from his own bottle, "I could open my own inn." He looked at the sky, and raised his hands to indicate a sign, "Willie's Tavern".

Beside him, Rory snorted. "Can you not think of a more original name for it? Like "The smelly hole"?

Huffing indignantly, Willie shook his head and glared at the other man. "Why the smelly hole? What do you want to imply?"

Rory grinned innocently, a gesture that did not even fool a five year old. Soon Willie and Rory launched into an argument about what they would do with their share of the treasure and just why the tavern should not be called 'Willie's Tavern'.

When the first stars appeared in the sky, reflecting on the surface of the lake and Willie had gone inside the house to get more liquor, Rory turned to Madoc, asking the question that was burning on the tip of his tongue since the day that Madoc had first told them about his idea. "Madoc? What will happen once the construction is finished? Who will test it?"

At first, Madoc did not look at Rory. Instead, he looked out at the lake. There was a strange glimmer in his eyes, one that Rory had seen only a few times before. And never had it ended well. Madoc was not an evil man, just a man with a goal and purpose. He had worked long and hard to be where he was today, and Rory suddenly knew that Madoc would do everything in his power to get this plan to work, cost it what it may.

"I will test it." Madoc finally said, his face grim but determined. He took another deep swig from his bottle, and when he saw that it was nearly empty, he gulped the rest down as well, before he threw the bottle into the water, where it was quickly carried away by the current.

Rory was not really surprised that Madoc would test the construction himself. It had been the older man's plan from the beginning after all. Still, he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach that he could no really explain. "The lake is freezing cold this time of the year." He ventured, watching Madoc intently. "Maybe we should wait till the end of summer, when it is a bit warmer."

"No." Madoc shook his head, "We are not the only ones who seek a way to get their hands on the treasure that lies at the bottom of his lake, I'm sure. And anyway, the water at the bottom of the lake is cold no matter what time of year. It does not matter when we do it."

Sighing inwardly, Rory nodded, "Then it is decided." His thoughts strayed to the future, and he had to grin, "Imagine what we could do with all the gold, and the jewels, the wealth we will have."

The strange glimmer in Madoc's eyes intensified, and the older man took a deep breath. "The dwarves might have gotten the gold under the mountain, but we, my friend, will get the gold that Smaug took with him when he fell into the Long Lake." And when he turned and looked into Rory's eyes, he added, "Smaug's diamond covered belly will be ours. And nobody will be able to take it from us."

To be continued


	5. 5 The Castellium

**Chapter 5: The Castellium**

Aragorn slept long the next day, getting up only a few hours before midday. While his nose still hurt when he bowed his head for too long a time, the rest of his body had recovered from the cold water and the chill of the wind. He only hoped that he would not get a cold, but with the fine weather outside, it was not very likely.

The two friends spend most of the day close to the market water. It was market-day , and dozens of small vessels had entered the center, bobbing on the waves. Planks and small, movable bridges had been installed, so that the inhabitants of the town could easily access all the boats. Flags and painted masts indicated the goods that were sold on the merchants' ships, and the air was full of voices and smells.

While Legolas was fascinated by the fact that so many humans fitted into the small space, Aragorn could not see enough of the colors and forms, the goods and merchants. In Eriador, he had never seen such a spectacle. When the market was held in Bree, it was a rather solemn affair, with the humans haggling over the price of the goods and being generally grumpy. Here, the market reminded him of a folk festival. One of the vessels even seemed to house a small stage, where actors played the destruction of the city and the fall of Smaug, the dangerous, men eating dragon with the sparkling belly made of the treasure he had been lying on for years.

When the sun slowly sunk deeper, Aragorn and Legolas slowly meandered through the town, keeping their eyes open for a place to eat. While they enjoyed the meals in the Fat Fisherman, both of them wanted to see and experience as much of Lake-town as possible. Eating in a different inn every evening seemed the best way to do this.

This night, they decided for a rather simple establishment, but the servants were friendly, the ale cold and the food traditional and good. Stretching his long legs out in front of him, Aragorn rummaged in his pockets for his pipe and some weed, and when the blue smoke drifted lazily towards the wooden ceiling, he winked at Legolas, who pointedly opened a small window next to their table.

So they sat, talking about everything and nothing in particular, when Legolas suddenly tilted his head to the side and slightly to the back. A small frown appeared on his brow, and Aragorn stopped talking, watching his friend instead intently. He knew that Legolas was listening to something or someone behind him, and from the look on he elf's face, it was not a pleasant something or someone.

Long minutes passed, and still Legolas listened. His face became stony, and the small frown deepened while his fingers tightened around the mug of wine. Getting concerned, Aragorn leaned forwards across the table. "Legolas? What is it?"

At first it seemed as if Legolas had not heard him, for he showed no sign that he had. But just as Aragorn reached out to touch the elf's hand, Legolas's head snapped around. Cold blue eyes looked Aragorn, and the man involuntarily withdrew his hand. Whatever it was that Legolas had overheard, it had made the elf angry. Very angry.

"Legolas? What is it?"

For a moment, Legolas said nothing and simply looked at him, clearly trying to reign in his emotions. Aragorn thought he could actually see the elf unclench his teeth slowly. Taking a deep breath, Legolas finally ground out between his teeth, "How _dare_ these humans talk like this about my people?"

"Who?" Aragorn asked, at the same time lifting himself in his chair and craning his neck to look over Legolas's shoulder at the group sitting at the table behind the elf. From what he could see, it were three humans, clad in not the finest garb, and from the jerky movements of their arms and bodies, they were obviously drunk.

Returning his attention to Legolas, Aragorn gave him an understanding look, "They are drunk, Legolas. Whatever it was they said, do not take it to heart."

"I never would!" An indignant look flittered across Legolas's face, but his fingers still gripped the mug tightly. "But I also cannot just sit here and let them insult my father and King, as well as my people."

Aragorn gave the drunken group another look, trying to listen in on their animate conversation. But he was not an elf, and his hearing was not good enough to make out more than occasional words. Sighing inwardly, Aragorn tried to reason with his friend. He knew that Legolas did not take kindly to any insult to the Firstborn, but a slight against his father or his people was something that really angered the Prince. The Woodelves worked too hard and lost too many good warriors to the evil of Arda that Legolas could not feel angered.

"They are drunk, Legolas. Maybe they had a bad day, a bad catch, a defective vessel. Let it rest. Why don't we just go and return to the Fat Fisherman?" He reached out with his hand, gently placing his own over Legolas's, stroking the tense fingers with his thumb.

For a moment it really seemed as if Legolas would follow his suggestion. But then the elf's eyes suddenly seemed to catch fire, and ere Aragorn could react, Legolas was on his feet, storming over to the other table. Without a second's hesitation, Aragorn jumped up and hastened after Legolas.

With but three big steps the lithe elf had reached the other table, and his rigid posture spoke of his anger. A moment later, Aragorn stepped up beside him, whether to calm the elf or to fight at his side, he did not yet know. But when his eyes fell on the men at the table, he knew that fighting was the more likely course of action. For, at the table sat not only the three men he had espied earlier over Legolas's shoulder, but four. The last man (if one could call him that), seemed to be larger than even Lord Elrond, he was broad shouldered, with huge, muscled arms and hands the size of shovels. His head was bald, but he had a finely shaven beard with two braids. While the beard reminded Aragorn of the dwarven beards, the rest of the man was more a troll than a human. Swearing silently, Aragorn straightened his back and broadened his stance. If this was going where he feared it was going, he would need to be ready.

So concentrated was he on the man he had not seen earlier, that he nearly missed Legolas's hissed words.

"Would you care to repeat what you just said, Master Human?" Legolas eyes were on fire, and although his voice was steady, Aragorn had no problem to hear the dangerous undertone. Legolas was not easy to anger, and less so when it concerned men. To rattle him that much, these humans must have really said something exceptionally stupid.

The drunken men looked at Legolas, narrowing their eyes to make out the face of the elf in the dim light of the tavern. Then, one pointed a finger at Legolas, lulling, "Why, he is an elf! Ha, now look at that!"

The other men gazed at Legolas as if he was a very impressive fish on their hooks, a look that did nothing to calm Legolas. The elf's back stiffened and he balled his hands into fists at his side. For a moment Aragorn really wondered if smoke would come from friend's ears should the men continue to be that stupid.

"I repeat my question, human." Legolas ground out, totally ignoring the fact that the men were altogether drunk. "Would you care to repeat what you just said?"

Another of the men leaned forwards, his eyes bloodshot, "Such a fine speech! We are but simple fishermen, elf! Speak plainly, for Ulmo's sake!" The three drunken men around the table all laughed, while the troll sized man eyed Legolas and Aragorn wearily. Aragorn got the sinking feeling in his stomach that he was neither drunk, nor very inclined to let this end easily.

"Legolas, let it be, they are drunk." Aragorn cautioned, but Legolas was too far gone to have any of it. He took a step closer to the table, his voice like ice.

"What was it that you called my King?"

For a moment, the men at the table kept their grinning faces, but then they slipped one by one, as if they would suddenly realize that Legolas was really there, really an elf and had really heard what it was that they had been talking about. It became eerily quiet at the table, and the men began to shoot each other uneasy glances.

With a pang of unease, Aragorn let his eyes quickly dart around the inn. The conversations at the other tables had stopped as well, and the whole inn was listening in on what was going on. Some of the patrons had even drawn back to the door to make a quick retreat should the scene get out of hand.

His attention was called back to the table when Legolas asked once more, his voice now taunting the men, "Your tongues are quick with words when you do not have to fear retribution for your insults. But cowards you are when challenged." With that, Legolas turned on his heel, letting his blond hair swish around his face. Without looking at Aragorn he strode for the door, wishing nothing more than to leave.

Aragorn heaved a sigh of relief and turned around as well to follow Legolas, but he had made but two steps when he a heavy hand suddenly clamped on his shoulder and he was whirled around. Surprised, Aragorn had just enough time to see a huge fist swing towards his face, and then a fierce pain exploded in his jaw, dropping him to the ground. His head connected sharply with the edge of a table on his way down, and he wondered idly why his head was so fond of knocking against inanimate objects.

He was only dimly aware that Legolas called his name, while he was more than certain that it had been the troll-man who had attacked him. The next few moments were but a blur to him, but when his vision cleared once more, Aragorn saw that Legolas was fighting with the huge human, while one of the drunken man was sneaking up on him from behind.

Before the drunkard could reach Legolas, Aragorn grabbed a stool and flung it at the man's feet, making him stumble. Cursing, the drunken man rubbed his hurting chins, glaring down at Aragorn. Knowing that lying on the floor would not help him in this particular fight, Aragorn grabbed the edge of the table he had made the acquaintance with already, and pulled himself to his feet.

A quick look in Legolas's direction told him that his friend was doing fine. He had not drawn his weapons, and was instead evading the troll-man's attacks by simply dodging and jumping from table to table, using everything in his reach to taunt the man. Just now, he was holding up a mug of ale with one hand and begging the man with his other to come and get it. For a fleeting moment Aragorn wondered whether Legolas was suicidal, but his attention was drawn back to the drunkard a second later.

With a curse on his lips that would have made any orc blush (if they could blush at all, that was), the man threw himself at Aragorn, fists swinging. He landed a good punch in Aragorn's stomach, causing his breath to leave him in a rush. Doubling over, Aragorn managed to land a hit on his own, and the man grunted in pain. But drunken as he was, the pain did not seem to register in his mind, and with another curse he came at Aragorn. His arms and legs were nothing but swinging weapons, and Aragorn was hard pressed to evade them.

Aragorn did not know what these men had spoken about, or why Legolas had been so angry, and he knew that this man was drunk, but that did not mean that he would stand here and accept being turned into ranger-bruise. Another punch hit him squarely at his jaw, making him smash into another table. Aragorn tasted blood in his mouth, and a sweep with his tongue told him that his bottom lip was split.

"That's it." He growled, and with a glare of his own, Aragorn pushed back from the table and advanced on the drunkard. He managed to land a good punch in the man's midsection, making him break through his knees and land on the ground in a heap. Raising his fist into the air in case the man would get up again, Aragorn was suddenly grabbed from behind. Cursing, he turned around, ready to face the new attacker.

And stopped short when he gazed into the eyes a man dressed in a fine uniform, with applications of the shoulders and arms. Behind that man, more guards stood, the hands on the pommels of their swords. During their strolls of the town Aragorn had seen them often enough to know who they were. Swallowing, he let his hand sink slowly to his side. The town-keepers had come to restore the peace, and Aragorn had heard enough stories about them to know that they were not taken to excuses or apologies of any kind. They were strict in following the laws and quick to break up fights.

Behind him, Aragorn could hear shattering of pottery and then light elvish laughter. Grimacing, he hoped that the town-keepers did not understand Sindarin. He did not resist when his arms were grabbed by two of the keepers and then bound behind his back, knowing that he was outnumbered (and he would never fight the town-keepers, anyway). Turning around, he saw Legolas standing on a table, his face flushed slightly. The troll-man stood in front of him, his face white with fury. His strong arms twitched while the muscles in his neck seemed to be taught as a bowstring. With an oath he hurled himself at the elf.

Only, Legolas was long gone before the man was even close to him. Lightfooted, the elf nimbly jumped towards another table, causing the man to smash into the table, which shuddered under his weight before he broke cleanly in two, dropping the man to the ground.

He never got the time to get up. Four of the town-keepers stormed at him, and with combined strength they managed to hold him down and bind his hands behind his back. Three more advanced on Legolas, who eyed them warily. His hands balled into fists at his sides and he seemed ready to fight them.

"Legolas, daro!" Aragorn said softly from where he stood, knowing that his friend would hear him over the grunts of fighting coming from the troll-man. Blue eyes flashed in his direction, and for a moment Aragorn was not sure whether Legolas would surrender or not. There was a glimmer in the elf's eyes that Aragorn had only seen in battles before, but then the elf gave his head a quick sideways tilt. All tension left his body and he opened his fists. With an almost haughty bearing he jumped from the table, and without another word he turned his back to the town-keepers and crossed his wrists behind his back.

The three guards exchanged a confused look, and then they almost timidly bound the elfs' hands. When they guided Legolas past the troll-man, who was struggling valiantly with the town-keepers, Legolas smirked a satisfied grin that made his eyes gleam with victory.

"Legolas?"

"Aye?"

"What did he call your father anyway?"

Aragorn asked with his head leaned back against the cold stone wall of the town's prison. The town-keepers had acted strictly according to protocol, which meant a nights detention for everyone who made trouble like beginning a fight in an inn. To the town-keepers it did not matter that Aragorn and Legolas had not begun the fight, and neither did it matter to them that the whole Kingdom of Mirkwood had been slighted and Legolas indirectly insulted. Without another word, the guards had led Aragorn, Legolas and the two men towards the Castellium, where they had been assigned to different cells to stay the night.

While Aragorn did not relish the thought of having to stay at the prison the entire night, he had to admit that the prison cell he was finding himself in was one of the most comfortable cells he had ever seen from inside. Not that he had seen 'that' many before, but this cell was definitely better than he cells in either Bree or the few smaller towns in the North of Eriador. Why, this cell even had two small cots, blankets and a bucket in the corner for their needs.

Still, the cell was dark, cold and damp. The Castellium's cells were made of stone, and although the sun had shone for at least a few weeks, the cell was cold. And Aragorn did not really want to know why it was so damp in the cell that the walls were slightly wet. The thought that the stones were too heavy for the wooden stilts and would break through, letting them all tumble into the lake, made him uneasy.

From somewhere across from him, he heard Legolas grind his teeth in the dark. The elf had not spoken since they had been shown to their cell, and had silently claimed one of the cots, while Aragorn had sat down on the other.

"Legolas?" Aragorn asked again, suddenly worried that his friend had been hurt in the fight, although he had seen no injury.

"That…vermin." Legolas said, and Aragorn could visibly imagine the elf's narrowed eyes and the furious glare. "He dared to call my people some nasty things, two-legged-squirrels and lofty-tree-huggers the most light ones."

Aragorn quickly wiped a hand across his mouth to hide his smile, knowing full well that Legolas had no problems to see him in the dark. Really, if that was all the men had called the elves, Aragorn thought, Legolas's reaction had been exaggerated. His brothers had said worse things.

"And then," Legolas continued with an angered tone in his voice, "They began to call my King names. Gold digger. Treasure thief. Greedy. Arrogant. That he keeps hoards of gold and diamonds in the palace, stolen from Smaug." Legolas snorted. "Everybody knows that most of the gold of Smaug's lair fell into the hands of the dwarves and another part was spend rebuilding Esgaroth. The assumption that my King would swim in gold is preposterous!"

Legolas huffed, and Aragorn felt his lips twitch. It was no secret that the King of Mirkwood was fond of gold and diamonds, but it was not true that he kept hoards of it. The treasure of Mirkwood was not gold, silver and diamonds, but able warriors and a deep, inbred sense of duty and honor. The Mithril and diamonds kept in the palace were just an added bonus.

But, having Legolas known for many years, Aragorn knew that his friend did not take lightly to any insults against his father and King, and especially not when it concerned the hoard of Smaug. Many a good elf had died in that battle, some of them friends of Legolas. To imply that Thranduil had been more interested in the gold of the dragon than to restore peace to the lands was a sure way to garner Legolas's life long anger.

"He shouldn't have said what he did, Legolas. But he was just a drunk man, and they were speaking about things they know nothing of. Don't judge them, mellon nin." Aragorn said, tightening the blanket around his shoulders to staff of the cold chill that wanted to creep up his arms.

A sigh. "I know, Estel, I know." The cot cracked and Aragorn could hear the rustling of fabric. A moment later, he felt his own cot dip slightly, and then the warm presence of Legolas was at his side, spreading the second blanket over his legs. "I'm sorry, Estel. Had I not reacted as I did, we would not be here now."

"Ah." Aragorn waved his hand through the air dismissively. "You don't know a town before you have not visited its prison." He smiled in the darkness, "Thank you for the blanket."

"You're welcome." Legolas shifted on the cot, leaning his head against the wall in his back and folding his long legs under him. They were silent for a moment, but then Aragorn bumped his shoulder against Legolas's, throwing the elf's own words back at him.

"How many times do I have to tell you to not run blindly into danger, Legolas? Always make sure that you have someone to guard your back in case it gets dirty."

Legolas rolled his eyes, giving a long suffering sigh, "I'm sure you will not forget this incident, won't you?"

"Nope." Aragorn laughed, "Not for a very long time my friend."

"I feared that." Legolas sighed mockingly once more, but he could not keep up the levity and his thoughts soon returned to the insults that these men had thrown at his people and his King. "Did my people not help the humans after the battle? Did they not send money and food and tools so that the town could be rebuild? Did we not offer all the help we could? We suffered great losses in that battle, too. Did anyone ask if we needed help? Did we get supplies? Who asked us if we were alright?" Legolas tensed up beside Aragorn, causing the man to shift closer. "How dare these humans to insult us so?" Legolas spat, rigid.

"They had no right, mellon nin." Aragorn placed a hand on Legolas's knee, hoping to calm the elf. "But they lost everything they had in that night when Smaug was defeated. Their homes, their goods, their farms and fields, and many even their lives. They were hard pressed and had nothing to fall back upon. I think none of them has really shaken off that horrible night yet."

"Still, they should not talk like that." Legolas crossed his arms defensively across his chest, not really wanting to calm down yet. "And to say that my people had stolen the treasure from that beast. Ha! How could we, when the dwarves took all that was in the lair and the dragon took the rest of it with him into the lake." Snorting, Legolas shook his head, "Do they think we dove down the Long Lake to secretly steal the gold that must even now lie at the bottom of the lake?"

"When men are drunk they do not really think." Aragorn pointed out, starting to slowly rub his thumb in soothing circles on Legolas's knee. "But it is not that far-fetched, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" Legolas asked, turning to face the man in the darkness.

"I mean," Aragorn said, never stopping his gentle, soothing ministrations, "don't tell me that your people have never thought about lifting that treasure from the bottom of the lake. From what I have heard of Gandalf and Bilbo, the belly of Smaug was covered with a thick layer of gold, silver, Mithril and diamonds, so thick that no arrow, sword or spear could pierce it. Don't tell me the elves never thought of recovering that treasure."

Legolas was silent for long moments, but then he sighed in defeat, "Well, actually we have. After the battle, the dwarves refused to help the humans, they were not willing to separate from their new found wealth. We debated to lift the treasure to help rebuilt the town, but then the dwarves reconsidered and handed over some gold from the hoard of Smaug to finance the construction of a new town. Don't ask me why for I surely do not know. After that, it was no longer necessary to lift the treasure."

"Hm, how would you have done it?" Aragorn asked, scooting closer to Legolas, so that their shoulders touched.

Shrugging, Legolas placed his hand on top of Aragorn's, entwining their fingers without so much as a conscious thought. "I don't know what my father's advisors came up with. I don't know how deep the Long Lake is, but surely deeper than any elf could dive."

"But elves would surely be able to dive deeper than any man. You can hold your breath longer and are less immune to the cold."

"Aye, that's true." Legolas shrugged once more, "But we are neither fish nor crab. I don't think any elf would be able to dive to the ground of the Long Lake and back up again. That is simply too long. And it would be foolish to risk one's life just for a bit of material treasure."

"Wise words, mellon nin. There are so many other things worth dying for." Despite the dark, Aragorn's eyes sparkled lively. He leaned closer to the elf, brushing his lips softly against Legolas's. His tongue stroked gently, warmly, and when their lips closed into a long, deep kiss, Aragorn wrapped an arm around Legolas's waist and pulled him closer towards him.

When they parted, Aragorn smiled and rested his head on Legolas's shoulder, "It could be worse, after all. This prison is not as bad as others."

"A prison is a prison." Legolas mumbled uncomfortably, and wrapped his arms around Aragorn. "But you are right, it could be worse. Instead of sharing a cell with you I could have been forced to share the cell with a smelly dwarf."

Aragorn rolled his eyes in the dark, before he closed them and rested more comfortably against the elf's chest. "Remember what you promised your father, Legolas. No dwarf infuriating on this trip."

"Do you see a dwarf in here Estel? I certainly don't. And that means that I'm not infuriating them." There was a humorous undertone in Legolas's voice, telling the man that the elf was not really serious.

Sighing, Aragorn waved his hand through the air dismissively, "Then, my friend, rant and rave to your heart's delight."

Later, Aragorn regretted having said that, for Legolas did rant and rave (if silently), about everything and anything. And when the town-keepers came the next morning to release them, Aragorn could not have been happier. Maybe Legolas was his best friend and his lover, but that certainly did not mean that Aragorn enjoyed spending a night with an elf who could list up 100 ways to insult a dwarf, or 200 ways how to throw a dwarf, or the unnumbered ways of how you could tell that you saw a dwarf and not a furry over-sized squirrel.

(outside the Castellium)

Blinking against the bright sunlight, Nibs straightened slightly from his crouched position behind some barrels. Since the moment the town-keepers had released him very early that morning, he was hiding behind these barrels, waiting for the rest of the night's prisoners to be released. He could still not believe his incredible luck. It was simply too unbelievable!

Who would have thought a week ago that his involuntary stay at the prison would turn out to be the solution to all their problems? Madoc would never believe him when he told him what he had overheard the previous night. They would surely declare him insane or say that he was drunk. But Nibs had been neither, and he knew what he had heard. He had had no problems following the quiet conversation coming from the cell next to his, and he knew that he had understood the words of the other prisoners perfectly. That they had not thought of this possibility themselves…

Nibs shook his head in self reprimand, when the sound of the opening front doors of the Castellium suddenly caught his attention. Peering over the barrels, he saw the heavy wooden doors swing open, and in the next moment two figures exited. Squinting his eyes against the harsh sunlight, Nibs tried to see their faces, but they stood in the shadows of the Castellium and it was too dark to see them clearly.

What he could see was that both figures were tall and lean, but while the one was slender, the other was more brought shouldered and heavier built. One of them was dark haired, and Nibs thought to see a dark shadow around his chin, indication at least a days worth of stubble. The other person had long, blond hair, and when the two figures stepped out of the shadows of the prison into the sunlight, Nibs breath caught in his throat.

The blond figure's features were fine and tender, almost as delicate as a porcelain doll. Clear blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight, and the garments the person wore were fine and seemed to be as good as unused. But what caught Nibs attention most were the pointed ears, indication that it was indeed an elf that stood there in the sunlight.

An elf…Nibs felt his heart beat faster. This was the last proof he had needed to convince himself that he had not dreamed the previous night, that he had actually heard the conversation of the two prisoners. It was not really the fact that he was staring at an elf that was making Nibs almost giddy with excitement. He had seen more elves in his life than most other humans living on Arda, seeing that Lake-town was friendly with the Wood-elves of Mirkwood. No, it was rather the fact that he had heard the elf (or the man, he was not sure who had actually said it, but it did not matter) say that the elves would probably been able to dive to the ground of the Long Lake. That elves were immune to the cold of the water, that they could hold their breath longer than humans.

When they could bring this elf to dive for them into the cold water, to test the construction, then, Nibs thought, he would not have to do it. It was perfect, it was the solution to all their problems. The rather uncomfortable question how they would get the elf to cooperate did not even once ring in Nibs mind.

When the two former prisoners laughed lightly and then wandered off northwards, Nibs grinned to himself and followed them slowly at a secure distance. He would find out where these two resided, and then he would return to his friends and tell them of what he had learned. Madoc would never believe him!

Aragorn and Legolas returned to the Fat Fisherman, checked on their horses and then entered the main house. They both longed for a good wash and fresh clothing, as well as something to eat and drink. Once the door closed behind them, Nibs stepped out of the shadows on the opposite side of the road, a small, triumphant smile on his face. Then he turned, and as fast as his feet would carry him, he raced back to his home, hoping that Madoc, Rory and Willie had not left yet to find work today. There was much he had to tell them.

Luck was once more on Nibs's side. When he reached the house, Willie was just climbing into their small vessel, a bag of tools over his shoulder. Panting, Nibs rested his hands on his knees and tried to calm his breathing.

"Willie, wait!"

"Ah, I see the prison has spit you out again. If you want an advise from me, be more careful the next time. Madoc was furious when he heard they arrested you. We really cannot have that sort of trouble now." Willie climbed from the vessel, frowning. "Why so out of breath? Did the rats in the cell scare you so?"

Nibs shook his head and straightened up. His breathing was still quicker than was normal, but his eyes were glimmering in the sunlight. "Wait till you hear what I heard tonight. You will never believe it."

Form behind the two men, a deep voice asked gruffly, "Believe what?"

Turning, Nibs and Willie gazed at Madoc, who had just exited the house. Madoc did not seem very happy that particular morning, and his face was serious. Nibs swallowed nervously, knowing fully well why Madoc was so bad tempered. He should not have let himself be caught. Surely most of the fishermen would now look out for him at the piers, and it would be really difficult to steal the nets they needed.

"Madoc." Nibs began, swallowing once more. "I have found the solution to all our problems." He stated, and ere he could stop himself, he told Madoc everything he had heard the previous night, of the elf and the ranger he had followed to the Fat Fisherman, and what it all meant for them.

When Nibs had finished, Madoc very, very slowly nodded his head. "And they have not seen you?"

"No, I'm certain they did not. They did not turn around once, went straight to the inn." Nibs shifted from one foot to the other, caught between excitement and fear that he had done something wrong, something that would anger Madoc after all.

Rory, who had left the house and joined them somewhere in the middle of the tale, stroked his chin thoughtfully. "An elf….it could work. They are hardier than men, can endure more."

"Aye." Madoc gazed out across the lake, his eyes far away in thought. "But why should he help us? Elves have no love for men's trials. And even if he would help us, what would keep him from taking the treasure for himself? Everybody knows that the Wood-elves have a soft spot for all that glimmers and gleams."

They were all silent for a long time, but then Willie shrugged his shoulders. "We could at least ask him. Maybe he helps of his own accord."

Madoc gave the man a look that clearly said what he thought of that stupid idea. "No, he will not help us, I'm sure of that. But maybe we can convince him nonetheless. Make him an offer that he cannot turn down." An evil shine appeared in his eyes that neither of the other men had ever seen before. "Nibs, you say he was not alone?"

Suddenly nervous, Nibs nodded, "He was with a man, a ranger, from the looks of it."

"Young or old?" Madoc asked, his eyes sharp and piercing as a dagger.

"Young, I think. Not older than maybe 25. Perhaps a bit younger even." Nibs shifted from one foot to the other once more. He did not like the way Madoc was looking at him, and he certainly needed not to be a fortune teller to know where this conversation was leading. He was only proven true when Madoc nodded his head and smiled in satisfaction.

"Then, my friends, we will make the elf an offer that he cannot turn down, even if he wanted to."

The next day was warm and sultry, with absolutely no wind to ease the pressure of the heat on the town. Hoping to escape the sultriness, Aragorn and Legolas took their horses and exited Esgaroth via the long bridge to the West. For most of the day they rode along the banks of the lake, letting their horses choose the pace. The animals had been stabled long enough to neigh in pleasure when they finally felt soft soil under their hooves instead of wood, and the riders enjoyed their happiness.

Around midday they stopped in the shadows of some birch trees, watering the horses in a small brook that gurgled merrily nearby. Then, they bound the horses to the trees, giving them enough freedom to graze and reach the water.

Legolas stood at the edge of the small copse of trees, when Aragorn stepped up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. Giving him a quick peck on the cheek, Aragorn sighed contentedly. They stood on a small grassy knob, and from here they had a wonderful view across the Long Lake and Esgaroth. In the distance, they could even make out Erebor.

"A storm is brewing, and it comes sooner than I thought." Narrowing his eyes, Legolas peered a the dark clouds gathering in the North. "It will reach Esgaroth in but two days, maybe three. And it will be a bad storm, with much rain and wind."

Aragorn did not doubt his friend's words, knowing that Legolas (and most elves he knew) had the uncanny ability to be able to predict the weather. Maybe it was because elves in general were closer to nature than humans, Aragorn did not know. But when an elf told you that it would rain the next day, you better took your coat with you. And when an elf told you that it would snow in summer, you better searched for the next warm cave.

"Lake-town has seen many storms in the past. I'm sure the people know how to deal with it and will dock all boats in time." Aragorn said, gazing at the lake. The vessels and ships were but small dots to his eyes, moving slowly from here to yonder.

"Of course they will." Legolas nodded and raised an eyebrow. "Only a total fool would venture out onto the lake in such a weather. It would be suicidal."

"Well," The man sighed, "a storm means a day inside, at least. Any plans on what we could do?"

Aragorn did not need to see the grin of his friend's face to hear the smile in the elf's words, "I'm sure we can think of something. Something that will occupy us the whole, rainy day." Legolas shifted and gently bumped his hips against Aragorn's eliciting a laugh from the man.

"Not so greedy, Legolas, someone could see us."

"But there is no one here, Estel. And we have not met any beings, be they human, dwarven or equine in the last two hours." Legolas's voice became deeper, more sensuous, "We are all alone up here, melethron."

"You know," Aragorn said, reaching out to pull some of Legolas's long hair away from his neck, "I find that this weather makes me rather lazy." Slowly, Aragorn let his lips caress the soft skin on Legolas's neck, down from his ear to the shoulder.

Leaning into the touch, Legolas laughed lightly, "When have you ever been lazy, Estel? That is an entirely new side I have yet to get to know."

"Hmm." Shrugging slightly, Aragorn gently pulled at Legolas shirt to expose a bit of his shoulder, only to bestow a kiss on the freed skin. "I could show you my lazy side, if you are interested."

Another soft laugh came from Legolas and he reached up to cup the back of Aragorn's head, before he turned his face and kissed the man soundly on the mouth. Their tongues battled for victory, and when they parted both were panting slightly. With a voice rough of emotion, Legolas said softly, "Show me."

Without saying another word, Aragorn took Legolas's hand and together the two of them entered the copse of trees. Here, the grass grew almost ankle high, and it was lush and soft. Moss covered the ground here and there, with patches of wild flowers where the sunlight reached the earth.

Once inside the shadow of the trees, Aragorn cupped Legolas's face with both hands, pressing his lips gently on the elf's. Closing his eyes in bliss, Legolas felt the man nib gently on his bottom lip, sucking here and there, before he pressed his oh so warm lips on his, stealing his breath. Feeling the warm breath of the man mingle with his own, Legolas slowly let his hands travel down Aragorn's back, reveling in the sensation of the broad shoulders and the strong muscles that flexed under his fingers.

Still the kiss endured, and Legolas felt his heartbeat quicken when Aragorn reached up and touched his ear almost tenderly, as if he was afraid to hurt him. As soon as the young man's fingers touched the tip of his ear, a flood of sensations assaulted Legolas's body, spreading down to his toes, making them tingle slightly. Legolas sucked in his breath. Only, that it was not his breath, but Aragorn's, for the man's lips had not left his. Light exploded behind Legolas's closed eyes, and with a moan of pleasure he tightened his hold on his lover.

Slowly, Aragorn guided the two of them backwards, until they bumped lightly against one of the birches. Still kissing, they used the trunk to anchor themselves to the world, so as not to be lost in their happiness and love. Letting their hands touch freely and their lips taste lovingly, the two lovers slid slowly down until they sat on the lush green grass. Lying down, the two kissed tenderly, while the bright midday sun peeked through the branches.

The birds twittered overhead, mirroring the joy of the lovers beneath them, when Aragorn bedded his head on Legolas's shoulder, draped his arm across Legolas's chest and closed his eyes. The elf began to stroke the dark locks tenderly, sighing deeply in pleasure.

The sultriness of the town was apparent in the grove of trees as well, but out here, neither Legolas nor Aragorn felt the pressure of it. For a long time they simply laid there, relaxing and enjoying to simply be together.

Shifting minutely, Aragorn took a deep breath, smiling when the familiar scent of Legolas reached his nose. This trip to Lake-town had been better than he had hoped, and the fact that Legolas seemed to enjoy it as well was making him extremely happy. To be at Legolas's side, to joke with him, talk to him, and wake up with him at his side every single morning, without prying eyes or frowning faces, that was a kind of freedom that Aragorn had never experienced before, and he wished that it would never end.

As if this thought had opened the door for other thoughts, Aragorn suddenly realized that they had been in Esgaroth for the better part of two weeks already. Together with the journey and the return journey to Mirkwood, they would only be able to stay for a handful of more days, maybe a week. Perhaps a bit longer.

And then, then they would return to the palace; Legolas would have to take up his duties as the Crown Prince of Mirkwood soon enough, go on patrols, sit at his father's right side in meetings and court rulings. And he himself, he would have to leave quite soon to journey to Imladris, and then to The Angle. He had spend more time in the East than he had initially planned, and Aragorn knew that his presence with the rangers was required. He had duties now, as well as responsibilities, and no matter how much he wanted to never leave Mirkwood, he knew that he would have to do so eventually.

Suddenly, slender fingers touched his brow, a thumb caressing it gently, stroking from left to right. Opening his eyes, Aragorn gazed at Legolas's face. A look of concern and curiosity shone in those ageless eyes.

"You had that look on your face again, Estel. As if something troubles you." Legolas said softly, still stroking Aragorn's forehead, as if it could chase the expression away. "What were you thinking of?"

Aragorn swallowed and gave his friend a small smile. "Nothing important, Legolas. Nothing that should concern us now."

And then he closed his eyes once more and laid his head back down on Legolas's chest, trying to find the mood of happiness and peace that had filled his whole body only minutes ago. Slowly, he felt himself relax, and the dark thoughts left his mind when Legolas began to sing softly in this silver clear voice of his. Soon, Aragorn felt himself drift off to sweet dreams, the unhappiness of their soon departure forgotten.

Tbc…


	6. 6 An unexpected trap

**A/N: Here is the new chapter! I have sent out the review replies yesterday and I want to apologize to those I might have forgotten. Let me know what you think of this chapter!**

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Chapter 6: An unexpected trap

It was already dark when Legolas and Aragorn returned to the town that evening. Most of the townspeople had already returned from their labor on the fields, the boats had been tied to the piers, and so the two friends had no trouble guiding their horses to the inn. Laughter and music came from the common room, combined with the smell of good food.

"Do you think the cook made trout stew this evening?" Aragorn asked, opening the wooden door that led inside the stables.

Legolas shrugged and followed his friend inside, guiding his horse over to one of the empty stalls. "And if he has not, you could always ask him to. He will make you everything you want. As long as it has to do with fish, that is."

"True." Aragorn opened the leather straps and pulled the saddle from the back of his horse, quickly followed by the blanket he used to keep the saddle from hurting the horse. "The cook seems very fond of fish, and mussels, and seaweed, and practically everything that swims in the lake." He grinned and took up a brush.

Since their first day in the Fat Fisherman the cook had only made dishes that consisted of animals that lived in the Long Lake. Not once had pork or beef been on the menu, and although neither Aragorn nor Legolas were averse to fish of any kind, the cook's obsession with fish had been a point of discussion more than once.

Patting his horse on the neck and taking up a brush himself, Legolas shrugged his shoulders, "As long as he does not begin to make mud cakes for breakfast, that is fine with me. We have no great lakes in Mirkwood and the rivers have long since stopped housing any fish. I find myself enjoying the food here."

"Well," Aragorn said, walking around his horse to brush the coat on its other side, "there were enough lakes, streams, brooks and rivers in Rivendell. And when I travel in the company of the Dunedain we often have neither the time nor the energy to hunt for game. But a river is always near and a fat fish easily caught when you know how to. In all honesty, I cannot say that I will miss eating fish once we leave here."

His horse neighed softly and stomped its hooves, causing Aragorn to laugh and rub its soft nose. "Look who is hungry here." Giving the horse another pat, he laid down the brush, exited the small stall and made his way down the aisle. In a corner at the other end of the stable, they had not only stored their saddles and some of their gear, but there also were sacks of grain and fresh hay.

"While you are there, can you look if there are some apples somewhere?" Legolas called from the stall, still brushing down his beloved horse. "Our brave mounts have deserved some treats for staying in these stables for so long without complaining." He scratched his horse behind the ears, causing the animal to lower its huge head and wicker in pleasure.

"Of course!" Aragorn called back. He quickly filled two buckets with grain for the horses, before he shifted the sacks and barrels, looking if there were indeed some apples left. So immersed was he in his task, that he never heard the footsteps behind him until it was too late.

Cold steel pressed suddenly against his throat, and a voice hissed into his ear, "Still now, or I will not hesitate to kill you."

Aragorn stopped all movement, his heart pounding in his chest. Not once had he felt threatened in Esgaroth, never had the thought of being robbed crossed his mind. The thought that his life now rested in the hands of a stranger, so close to their room and with Legolas only a few feet away, made a shiver crawl down his spine.

Swallowing, Aragorn waited for the other man to move, to do something. Numerous thoughts raced through his mind, one faster than the other. His trusted sword was still strapped to his hip, there was a long knife in his belt and a dagger in his boot. Maybe he could even use one of the forks that stood near the wall and were used to clean out the stables. All he needed was a moment of time.

But the man who threatened him never gave him that moment. Digging his blade deeper into his skin and cutting it just deep enough to draw a little bit of blood, he man whispered in his ear, "Quiet now, or this will end bad for you."

And ere Aragorn could say something in answer, he heard shuffling footsteps behind him, and then a pair of hands groped at his waist. His sword belt was taken from him, as well as his knife. A moment later the same hands patted down his legs, searching for more weapons. Fingers were thrust down his boots and his dagger taken. Aragorn cursed inwardly at the thoroughness of these thieves, but it did not help him. He was weaponless now and with two thieves he was outnumbered. If only Legolas would hear them or see that something was not right. But the corner where the food was stacked lay in shadows, and no bright light burned in the stable for fear of a fire.

Aragorn was brought out of his thoughts when strong hands gripped his wrists and bend his arms around. Rough cord was wound around his wrists, binding them behind his back. When the cord was pulled tight, Aragorn winced, but he made no sound. The cold blade still rested against his throat, and by now a small trickle of blood had found its way down his neck and vanished inside the collar of his tunic.

There was more shuffling, and then Aragorn heard something creak, so as if a floor board had been lifted and then let fallen again. Again, the voice of the first man reached his ears, and the mouth of the other man was so close to his ear, that Aragorn could feel his hot breath. "Now, I want you to turn around slowly. And no tricks, ranger, for I will not hesitate to spill your blood."

The blade of the knife was moved a little ways from his throat, and Aragorn suppressed the urge to take a deep breath. Instead, he slowly turned around, trying to get his first look at his captor. But the man moved with him, always at his back, and Aragorn could not make out his face. Once they had turned away from the wall where the sacks were stacked and were facing the aisle, the thief gave Aragorn a small push into the small of his back.

"And now call for your friend."

This command was so unexpected that Aragorn simply blinked for a few seconds, wondering if he had heard correctly. Another, stronger push hit him in the back, making him shifting forwards. Immediately the blade cut his neck again, and Aragorn pulled back against his captor.

"I say it only one more time. Call for your friend." The voice hissed into his ear, hot and demanding and Aragorn knew with sudden clarity that the man was no mere thief. Thieves were creatures of the night, like shadows they came and went, never really visible. They knocked you out and stole what they could get while you were unconscious. Thieves would not threaten someone inside a stable and with an elven companion nearby. It was folly. No, this must have been planned, and although Aragorn did not know what the man wanted, he was sure that it was nothing good.

Swallowing, Aragorn pondered what he should do, when Legolas's clear voice called from down the aisle, "Estel? Have you fallen asleep or are you just now munching away on the apples that are meant for the horses?"

Another shiver raced down Aragorn's spine, and his thoughts raced feverishly. He opened his mouth to answer Legolas, to call his friend to alarm, but he never uttered a single sound. For in that second, Legolas's blond head appeared over the low door of the stable, his blue eyes turning down the aisle….and landing directly on Aragorn and his captor.

Disbelief, shock and fear crossed Legolas's handsome face, and a fraction later anger flashed through the blue eyes. Nimble hands reached for the long bow and in but a moment Legolas had jumped over the door, nocked an arrow and positioned himself in the middle of the aisle, his aim directed unwaveringly at the man behind Aragorn.

Aragorn had known Legolas long enough to know that the elf would not shoot at the man, for the chances that he would hit Aragorn were too great. But Aragorn also knew that Legolas was a master at tactics, and surely his actions must frighten his captor. No one who laid eyes on an armed, angry Prince of Mirkwood had no week knees.

But it seemed his captor was made of steel, for he simply dug his knife deeper into Aragorn's neck and wrapped his other arm around Aragorn's chest to pull him closer. "Not so fast, elf. Easy now. We would not have this situation escalate, now would we?" His voice was strong and did not waver.

Even from his somewhat awkward position, Aragorn could see that Legolas narrowed his eyes dangerously. His blue orbs darted from the left to the right, searching for more attackers, as well as for a way to free his friend. But there was none, and they both knew it.

"What do you want from us?" Legolas asked with an obvious effort to unclench his teeth. If his gaze alone could have killed, the captor would have been smothered on the spot.

"Oh, I want nothing from the both of you." The man said, and had Aragorn been able to see his face, he would have seen the small smile that played around his lips. "I only want something from you, elf."

Legolas gave no outward sign of surprise, but Aragorn felt his stomach cramp painfully. This could mean only more trouble. He had travelled Arda long enough to have heard grisly rumors of slave traders, elf-hunters and paid killers who had no other goal in life than to hunt and kill as many of the Firstborn as they could. And if this man wanted something from Legolas, it could not be good.

Aragorn was just to question the man what it was that he wanted, when Legolas spoke, "Then why do you hide behind the ranger? You want something from me, come and get it." His voice was full of anger but still under total control, and whether Aragorn wanted to admit it or not, the fierce protectiveness that Legolas showed towards him made him fell calmer.

"Oh, but you would kill me with that bow of yours the second I step from behind your friend, elf." The captor said, grinning. "So I think I rather stay here." And he pulled Aragorn tighter against himself.

"So we shall stay this way forever?" Legolas took a step to the side, his bow never leaving its aim. "You know human, forever is a very long time for elves."

The man behind Aragorn shook his head slowly, watching Legolas's every step. "Not forever. Actually, I think we will leave now." And he began to move backwards, pulling Aragorn with him. His hold on the ranger was strong, and with the blade still resting at his throat, Aragorn had no other option than to comply and follow him.

Legolas, however, had other plans. With quick movements he jumped on top of one of the stall doors from whence he had a better aim at the man, and spoke dangerously, "I could shoot you now. Tell me what you want and release the ranger, or I will kill you."

The blade dug ever deeper, causing Aragorn to crane his head backwards so far that he could no longer see Legolas but stared at the roof instead. Behind him, the man laughed, "Your friend here would be dead ere my body hit the ground. Not even you are faster than a dying man's reflexes."

"Then what is it that you want?" Legolas hissed, his cheeks flushing slightly from his anger and the shame he felt at the inability to help his friend.

"I want your help, elf." The man said, resuming his backwards motions. "But I don't think you will aid us freely. Therefore I will take your friend as an insurance for your help."

They had reached the other wall of the stable, where it had all began, and the man took his arm from around Aragorn and hit the wall with his fist two times.

"You mean as a hostage." Legolas jumped back to the ground, still trying to find a way to free Aragorn.

"Oh no, not a hostage." The man said, while he pulled Aragorn close again. Behind him, Aragorn could hear the creaking sound again, and a moment later he felt a cold gust of wind in his back. Strong hands grabbed his shoulders from behind and in the next moment he was pulled through the wall and onto the pier surrounding the inn. The creaking sound he had heard had been three boards in the wall of the stable that could be swung to the side.

Aragorn saw Legolas near the crack in the wall, following them outside, when the voice of the man spoke once more, "I would rather define your friend here as a means to exercise pressure."

Slowly, Aragorn felt himself stumble towards the edge of the pier. The wooden balustrade stopped them, but the man quickly climbed over it, his knife never leaving Aragorn's neck. "Climb over the railing, ranger. And no strange moves."

Aragorn did as he was told. He climbed over the balustrade as good as he was able to with bound hands, and then stood precariously on the wooden planks. He could hear the waves of the lake under him, and he wondered where this was leading. He did not have to wonder long, for suddenly the man behind him gave him a strong push, and Aragorn felt himself fly backwards and down.

"Strider!" Legolas called, his voice ringing in his ears. But before Aragorn could fall into the icy cold lake, his body crashed onto something hard and unyielding, causing his breath to leave his lungs in a rush. Quickly, strong hands gripped him and held him down. Another knife was placed at his throat to keep him still. He heard someone else land beside him, and then the voice of his captor called, "Your friend will stay with us for a while elf. Searching for him will have no success, for you will never find him. Stay in the inn, elf, and we will contact you. And if you do as we say, then maybe you will see your friend again."

Aragorn wanted to say something, wanted to call out to Legolas to not do as the man had said, but something solid that very much resembled a boot connected with his head, causing black spots to flood his vision. The last thing he noticed before unconsciousness claimed him was the fact that he must be on a boat of some sort, and that he really did not like this situation at all.

--oOo--

Legolas paced. And he hated pacing. It was something that was wide and far considered as very, very unelflike. He knew that Aragorn, could he see him now, would tease him endlessly about it, but he could not help it. He had tried sitting still, had really tried, but he could not. It had been hours ago that these men had taken Estel with them, and until now Legolas had not heard a word from them. A frustrated sigh left his lips and with annoyance he realized that he had – again – reached one of the walls in his room.

He narrowed his eyes and wondered for a moment why it was that he had to stay in such a small room, a room that was so unsuitable for pacing. He needed a hall, a large hall, he decided. Or even better, he needed an open plain, preferably the plains of Rohan. There an elf could pace at his heart's desire, unperturbed by walls! But no, of course he was not in Rohan, but in a small room, with walls that seemed to slowly but surely try to squish him into elf pie.

With a soft snort, Legolas gave the wall in front of him a dark look, then turned on his heel and resumed his pacing. Maybe if he went in circles instead of walking from one wall to the other, he could pace longer and would not have to turn around ever and anon, which was slowly getting on his nerves.

As entertaining as these thoughts were, they could not distract Legolas for very long from the painful tugging in his stomach. Why had these men not contacted him yet? What did they want from them, and especially him? And why had they not taken him instead of Estel, when it was so clearly his help that they needed? Where had they brought Estel? And even more importantly, was the young man alright?

It had been torture to stand at the pier and watch the small boat float away on the almost black lake, and Legolas had never before felt the urge to strangle someone as strongly as in that moment. These morons had not only taken away his friend right under his nose, but they had also knocked him out just for the fun of it! Unconsciously Legolas balled his hands into fists at his sides, glaring straight ahead of him.

The more reasonable part of him told him that the men had not knocked his friend out for 'just the fun of it', but to ensure that Estel would not give them any trouble and that he could not see the way to their hiding place. But, that did not calm Legolas down in the slightest. The fact that these humans had hurt his friend was the only thing that was truly clear to him right now. That, and the fact that he would do all in his power to rescue Estel. Cost it what it may. He would surely not return to Mirkwood and write a missive to Imladris, stating that Estel Elrondion had fallen into the hands of someone he did not know, for a reason he could not even begin to imagine and had suffered a fate he knew not of. With a small shudder, Legolas decided that this was no option _at all_.

To his own surprise Legolas felt a huge wave of anger roll over him at the last thought. No, he decided, make that a mountainous wave. If these humans had even dared to hurt a hair of Estel, then Legolas would make sure that they paid for it. And paid painfully. Most preferably with a slow and agonizing death that would make them wish they had never ever laid eyes on him and Estel.

Reaching another wall, Legolas growled in annoyance and turned around. What was it with him and Estel that they always got into trouble? Had they angered the Valar that much? Or did the Valar bear a grudge against any of their ancestors? Well, Legolas decided, that was more than possible, but did that mean that _they_ had to suffer for it? That Estel had to suffer for it?

His gaze darkened once more, and Legolas ground his teeth. The more he thought about what had happened earlier, the more he came to the conclusion that he had really no idea what was going on. During their stay in Esgaroth they had not angered someone, had not got into any remarkably dangerous situation (dismissing the rabid dog and the bar fight). Neither had they fought wargs or orcs or criminals. They had done absolutely NOTHING to cause these men to capture Estel and do the Valar know what to him.

Flinching at the renewed stab of pain in his chest, Legolas took a deep breath. These men had taken Estel captive to use him as a means to get him to cooperate. This meant that they would not kill Estel before he, Legolas, had agreed to do what they wanted, whatever that was. Estel was safe, for the moment. But the behavior of the men, especially the leader, had shown that they were not afraid of hurting Estel. If these humans had hurt his lover then he would…..

Suddenly, Legolas stopped in his tracks, his head swiveling to the left. Had he heard footsteps on the corridor outside? Was someone coming to get him? With but two great steps Legolas was at the door, pressing his ear against the wood and listening carefully. Yes! There were footsteps, nearing his room. Feeling very calm all of the sudden, Legolas gripped the handle of the door tightly with one hand, while the other reached for one of his knives. Whatever would come into his room, he was ready for it.

He waited, holding his breath and listening carefully. The footsteps came nearer, nearer, reached his door, stood directly in front of it…and then passed it without stopping. A moment later, the unmistakable sound of a door being opened and then closed reached Legolas's ears, and then silence settled once more.

For a moment, Legolas simply stared at the closed door, but then his shoulders sagged and he hung his head. What were these men waiting for? Why did they not contact him? The longer Estel was away, the more alone and helpless Legolas felt.

With a thick swallow, he turned away from the door and after a moment he resumed his pacing. Without Estel, the room seemed to be so small and empty, dark and almost…cold. A quick look at the sky outside the window told Legolas that it was already past midnight. In but a few hours the sun would rise, bringing a new day, but no new hope. Suddenly, a terrible thought struck Legolas, and he stopped dead. What if these men did not come back at all?

What if….what if he would never see Estel again? A stream of pictures flashed before Legolas's eyes, of a laughing Estel, eyes bright and clear, of an Estel who had just discovered that elves _were_ ticklish in special places, of a sleeping Estel and of the love and commitment that had shown in his melethron's eyes after their first love making.

No, the thought of never seeing Estel again, of never holding him in his arms, taste his kiss and share his body with him was too much for Legolas. With a shaking hand he reached for the bed post, needing something to anchor himself to. When a sob threatened to escape his lips he quickly pressed his other hand over his lips, quieting himself. He could _not_ lose control now. Estel needed him, for Valar's sake! And he was a Wool-elf and Wood-elves did not lose control. Ever!

He took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes tightly to fight the almost overwhelming desire to just lay face down on the bed and vent his pain and helplessness. It took him some minutes, but when Legolas straightened up once more and opened his eyes, his face was a mask of control and the trembling of his hands had stopped.

He would see Estel again. And he would make sure that these humans got what they deserved.

--oOo--

The first thing he realized upon waking was the fact that he seemed to be really, really dizzy. He had not even opened his eyes yet, but he felt as if the floor he was lying on was constantly moving and shifting, tilting from one side to the other. The longer he thought about it, Estel found, the sicker he felt to his stomach. And that was definitely nothing good, he decided a moment later, when his stomach made a kind of summersault.

The second thing he became aware of was the pain. There was always pain when one awoke from unconsciousness, was there not, so Estel was not truly surprised about that fact. But, he _was _rather surprised that he pain he felt was not that bad. His head pounded in the rhythm of his heartbeat and someone seemed to have wrenched his arms out of his sockets, but besides those pains, he felt relatively well. And considering the fact that he could even remember what he had done to get himself in this situation was a good sign indeed. It at least showed him that he had no concussion and spared him the rather stupid need to actually ask someone what had happened to him.

The ground he was lying on seemed to tilt to the side dangerously, and with a soft groan Aragorn hoped that his stomach would get over it and stop revolting. In the next moment, Aragorn frowned inwardly. He was no expert in the effect of concussions (or maybe he was, from own experience, but he was not yet ready to admit that openly), but he knew that concussions went along with sickness and dizziness and most of the times also with a short termed amnesia. But….had he not just decided that he had _no_ concussion?

Something was definitely not right here, Aragorn decided. Either he had a concussion or he did not have one. Both of them was not possible. So, when he had no concussion, then why was the world spinning around him and his stomach acting as if he had tasted food that his brothers had made in one of their prank bouts?

After a few moments of silent contemplation, Aragorn came to the rather unsatisfying conclusion that there was probably only one way to find out for sure. And that was by opening his eyes. With an audible sigh, he slowly blinked his eyes open, dreading to find his vision blurry and unfocused, something that would not help his upset stomach at all.

But, to his surprise, he saw nothing at all. After a few seconds he found that _nothing_ was maybe not the right word. There _was_ something. He was not sure what that something was yet, though. Blinking again, Aragorn slowly meant to see some light to his right, and after a few more minutes of intense staring he was _sure_ that it was light he saw. Light, actually, that was shining through the gap between two wooden planks, if he was not much mistaken.

Now that that was decided, Aragorn slowly moved into a sitting position, which was not that easy at all, for his hands were still bound behind his back (which explained his hurting shoulders, though) and his head pounded painfully with every movement. Not to mention that his jaw hurt, too, and rather fiercely so. That must have been the spot where the boot had hit him, and although he could not see his face, Aragorn was rather sure that already a black bruise had formed on his cheek and jaw.

He moved his lower jaw from side to side experimentally, wincing openly when it hurt quite a bit. But when he tested the strength of his teeth with his tongue and found none of them lose or hurting overly much, he sighed in relief. To have a gaping hole in his mouth was nothing he would appreciate, and somehow he knew that Legolas would neither. After all, Legolas always told him how handsome he was looking.

Legolas….Aragorn snapped is head up so abruptly at the thought of his friend that he bumped it at the ceiling. Cursing under his breath and wishing that he had his hands free to rub his aching head, Aragorn leaned forwards slightly. He had not even realized that the ceiling was so low, so dark was it in the room he was in.

But that was not on the forefront of his mind right now. Legolas was. What had happened to him after he had been knocked unconscious? Had these men caught him too? No, he decided a moment later. If he remembered correctly, these men had only wanted him. Had wanted him, so that Legolas would be forced to do something for them in return. So, they had not hurt Legolas, had they? Of course not, Aragorn mused, for that would not make any sense.

The small part of his head that was not hurting snickered slightly at that. What in this holy mess _was_ actually making sense? Sighing, Aragorn recognized that sitting around in the darkness with only his thoughts for company was surely not getting him any closer to the answers he needed. So, he turned around slowly, careful to not bump his head again, and focused on the blackness around him. Where was that speck of light he had seen earlier?

After a few minutes of adjusting his eyes to the darkness and intense staring, Aragorn made out a slightly lighter spot to his right. He was just on his way over to the spot, when the ground beneath him seemed to shift to the side, causing his stomach to churn violently. Gasping, Aragorn waited for a few moments, before he shook his head in annoyance. He still had not figured out whether it was only his imagination, or whether the ground really _was _moving. One more reason to shed more light on his situation, he thought with only a little bit of sarcasm. When his stomach had returned to something other people would call normal behavior, Aragorn moved over to the speck of light.

Once he was close enough, he could tell that it really was a small crack in the wood of the walls, letting light filter through it. It was not really big and only dim light entered, but Aragorn was not disheartened that easily. Crouching lower, so that his head was at the same level as the crack, he shook his dark locks out of his face and placed his eye at the gap, trying to peek outside.

At first he saw nothing, or rather, he could not make out what it was he saw, but then the shapes registered in his mind, supporting him with the words he was searching for. Stilts. Wooden stilts. And water. Water that was slapping against the wooden stilts, to be precise. Somewhere in the distance, Aragorn could even make out a wooden heaven to these stilts, and a moment later he realized that it was no heaven made out of wood, but the ground on which Esgaroth was built.

Before and after the destruction of Smaug, Esgaroth had been built of wood on stilts, driven into the bottom of the Long Lake. And right now, Aragorn was staring at them. And from quite close, too. The fact that the wooden stilts he was seeing were not moving, answering the question if he had a concussion with a solid 'no', did nothing to lift Aragorn's mood. For the only explanation to all his questions was that he was inside a boat or a vessel, docked _under_ the town. Under hundreds of houses, piers and planks.

Leaning back, Aragorn sighed audibly. No one would hear him down here, and no one would see the boat. Not even by accident. And, he thought grimly, the ground _does_ move. Which only meant that he would not be freed of his stomach-complains any time soon. He was by no means prone to sea sickness, on the contrary. He loved water and rivers, for he had grown up surrounded by them in Imladris. But right now, his stomach was not taking kindly to the moving of the vessel on the waves, be it because of his headache or because it simply wanted to be rebellious in the face of this treatment. Whatever it was, Aragorn knew that he could not change it. Not anytime soon, that was.

Now that he had at least geographically found out where he was, namely under Esgaroth, far away from any help, he needed to find out how big (or rather small) his prison was. The low ceiling did not indicate anything good, and the fact that the boat was that much affected by the relatively tame waves between the stilts did not bode well, either.

The dark room was quickly explored, for indeed, there really _was_ nothing to explore. The room was small, barely large enough for Aragorn to stretch out, and narrow. Had his arms been free and not bound behind his back, he was sure that he would have been able to touch both side walls comfortably when he stretched them out. The ceiling was low, as his head had already found out painfully, but it must have some sort of door, for the walls had none, as far as Aragorn was able to tell.

With a deep breath he let himself slump down against one of the walls and stretched his long legs out in front of him. His shoulders already hurt because of the rather uncomfortable position his arms had been forced into, and with another resigned sigh Aragorn began to tug at the bonds that bound his wrists. To his dismay, the rough cord with which they were bound did not move an inch, cutting instead into his skin painfully. Unperturbed, Aragorn resumed his attempts to free his hands.

What was a little additional pain if it meant that he could free his hands and therewith maybe himself? Legolas was out there, as were his captors. Aragorn did really not want to find out what these men wanted from Legolas, for whatever it was, it couldn't be anything good. Furthermore, the knowledge that Legolas would do whatever these men demanded from him so that _he_ would not be hurt, made Aragorn even sicker to the stomach. No, he vowed, he would do everything he could to make sure that these men had no hold over his friend.

With new vigor, Aragorn tugged at his bonds, wincing openly when it hurt his wrists, but not stopping nevertheless.

--oOo--

Madoc was a patient man. A man who knew when it was a time to act, and when it was a time to wait. And he knew that right now was the time to wait. They had succeeded in capturing the boy, had actually done it right in front of the elf. Well, they had not really planned to take the ranger while the elf was around, but when they had waited for the two to return to the inn, it had seemed to be a good idea. And it had been, Madoc had to admit. Oh, the expression on the face of the elf had been priceless.

In all his life Madoc had never had any dealing with the elves, and if he was honest with himself he neither had the desire. Elves were strange beings, he mused, staring out the window of the house. He had heard many stories about elves, especially about the Wood-elves that lived in a large cave somewhere in the dark forest. Not only did they speak this strange language, but they also seemed to be able to speak with trees and animals. Why, he had even heard that they could change the weather by will, but he believed that to be nothing more than a fairy tale. 'Elf-magic' the men in the inns called it. Babbling about walking trees and speaking squirrels and a river which's water put you to sleep immediately and let you dream of your wildest fantasies. It was all rubbish, Madoc knew. If the elves of Mirkwood really possessed any magic, then why had the elf let his friend be caught?

Snorting, Madoc shook his head. No, elves did not possess any magic. At least not the one who was right now waiting in the Fat Fisherman to be contacted by them. Which would not happed that soon, that was. For now was the time to wait. The ranger was stored away safely in one of their smaller boats, and no one would find him. Not even the most dim-witted idiot voluntarily guided his boat under the town. The waves there were treacherous, and it was only too easy to be caught by one of the smaller eddies that could appear there. But if one knew where to sail and where not, and if one knew where there had never been any eddies, then the water under the town was the perfect hiding place for a small boat. Be it filled with stolen goods or a young ranger…

No, even if the elf would go looking for his friend, he would never find him. But, Madoc thought, the elf would not go looking for his friend, for they had told him to stay right where he was if he ever wanted to see the ranger again. And from the look on the face of the elf, he would do just that. He would not endanger the life of the ranger by being so stupid as to search the town.

A small smile appeared on Madoc's face, and for a moment he savored the memory of the expression that had flittered over the face of the elf when they had rowed away from the pier. Anger he had seen, but also a small amount of fear, and something that he had not been able to identify. Something strange, almost like….longing of some kind. Whatever it had been, it only proofed to Madoc that the elf would do exactly as they had said and stayed at the inn until he had heard from them.

He had not yet decided when that would be, thou. They had taken the boy shortly after nightfall, and the sun had barely risen now. The first pink rays were just creeping over the mountains in the distance, glimmering on the still lake like liquid fire. A few stars were still out, reflecting from the surface of the water, and from the warm breeze that breathed in through the open window, Madoc could tell that it would become another warm and sultry day.

A sound from the stairway interrupted the man's musings, and he turned his head slightly. A few moments later, he could make out footsteps on the corridor outside the room he was currently in, and another moment later there was a knock on his door.

"Enter." His voice was deep and calm, but when one listened carefully, one could hear the waver of excitement in it.

The door creaked open, revealing the speckled face of Nibs.

"Madoc? I just came to ask if you want something to eat, too. Willie got some bread and cheese." Carefully, Nibs entered the room, but he stayed close to the door, so as if he was afraid to approach the older man.

Madoc had to smile inwardly at that. Nibs was by no means innocent. The red haired man had stolen more goods than anyone Madoc had ever met, including himself. But, Nibs had never actually harmed a person, not even threatened one, and the scene he had witnessed the other night in the stables and then on the boat had shaken him. Madoc shook his head inwardly. What had the other man thought that he would do to take the ranger? Ask him politely if he was inclined to play their hostage for a while?

Another snort escaped him, causing Nibs to frown at him. Madoc was by no means hungry, for the excitement of the last night was still filling him completely, but he mused that he would have to talk to the others sooner or later anyway. Surely they would have begun to wonder what would happen now to the ranger, and how they would proceed. Not that they had talked about this before all this had started…

Nodding his head, Madoc gestured for Nibs to precede him out the door, "Bread and cheese you say? Sounds delicious."

Nibs gave him another queer look, but then he shrugged and made his way down the stairs into the main room, where Willie and Rory were waiting for them. They were using a wooden box as a table, on which they had placed the bread and cheese, as well as an earthen cup filled with water.

Madoc simply nodded at them in greeting, noticing their glimmering eyes and the way they stopped talking when they saw him. Willie and Rory were older than Nibs and Madoc knew from personal experience that the two men had no scruple when they wanted something. Maybe they were no ruthless killers, but they were not prim either. Madoc knew that they would not hesitate to threaten or hurt the ranger or the elf should it be needed.

They ate in silence, each of them musing over his own thoughts, until Nibs finally put down the cup and looked askance at Madoc. "How long will we wait until we contact the elf?"

Taking his time to answer, Madoc chewed his bread and took a sip of the water, before he spoke, "Two days, maybe three. We talked about this before, Nibs."

"Well, yes, but I still think that three days is an awfully long time to be locked up in the boat. What if the ranger gets sea sick?" Nibs made a face, shaking himself.

"Then you will have to clean the boat." Madoc said flatly, stroking his bearded chin. They had had this particular discussion before they had abducted the ranger, and they had all agreed that it would be best if they kept the ranger for a few days before contacting the elf. It would make the elf nervous and worried, and he would surely do everything they said out of fear that they had hurt the ranger.

"But it must be hot in there, Madoc." Nibs tried again to reason with the older man. "He will need water and food. And what if he has to….well, you know." Nibs blushed slightly, much to the amusement of the other men.

It was Willie who answered, "We will bring him some water and food tonight, when it is dark and no one will see us. And now stop this nonsense talk. There is still work we have to do."

A few minutes later, Rory, Willie and Nibs left the house, rowing out to the platform they had built on the Long Lake. They had worked for months to make the platform as stable as they could, and to build a strong winch on it, just like the ones the fishermen used to lift their crab-catches. Only, that they would not lift cages full of crabs with this winch if their plan worked as they had planned, but boxes full of gold, silver and jewels.

To be continued

* * *

**Mwuahahahaha...You did not really expect me to play nice and clean, did you+evil grin+**


	7. 7 Coming to the rescue…or not

***looks timidly at readers* Hello. Wow, it has been over a year since I last updated this story. I am truly sorry for the long wait. But real life and a huge ****writer's block kept me from continuing. When I continued I felt my writing lacking and stopped again. It took me a few months to try again. Also I thought that most people had forgotten this story and that there was no one out there who would read it. I was proved wrong when I got a review this weekend, asking me to continue. Well, I got my hopes up that this story is not completely forgotten.**

**I dug into my computer files and recycled this chapter and then tried again. The result is this chapter and I really want to hear what you think. I know that it cannot compete with the older chapters, but I hope that you still like it. Let me know, please! *smiles***

**I really really plan to finish this story soonest. Your encouragement and reviews (hint hint) would definitely help with that. :) Now, have fun with the newest chapter of "The curse of the dragon".**

_Words in italics are conversations in elvish__._

Chapter 7: Coming to the rescue…or not

Four days. It had been four days and still Legolas had heard nothing from the kidnappers. No word, no letter, just nothing at all. Day and night Legolas waited in his room, staring at the walls, pacing, sitting absolutely still or cursing each and every single one of the men that had taken Aragorn away from him. The uncertainty of not knowing what had happened to Estel was making him sheer crazy!

During those horribly long four days that his lover had been taken away from him, Legolas had barely eaten, and only when his thirst had reached almost hurting levels had he drunken. Never did he leave his room, fearing that just in the few minutes that he was gone, the kidnappers would try to contact him. What if the men came back and he was not in his room? What if they thought that he had abandoned Estel? The thought what the kidnapers would do in such a situation was too terrible for Legolas to even think about.

On the second day after the kidnapping, the first grey clouds began to slowly sail across the lake from the North. The sky turned into a mosaic of brilliant blue sky and grey clouds, making the lake glimmer here, and dull and dark there. Now, on the fourth day, the sky was a total mass of grey clouds, mounting high and looking foreboding. The wind picked up over the day, making the smaller vessels shoot across the lake, and Legolas knew that it was only a matter of time until the storm he had predicted would waltz over the town.

Now, with the darkness of night slowly gathering outside, Legolas felt as if the weight of whole Arda was pressing down on his shoulders. Four days already and he had no word of Estel. What if the his young lover was not even alive anymore? Legolas's stomach revolted at the thought, and had there been food in it, Legolas was sure he would have retched.

Estel was a ranger and by no means helpless. He had experienced captivity before and knew that opposing his captors would more likely than not only result in pain and torment. But, Legolas mused wryly, that had never stopped Estel from getting on the nerves of his captors as much as possible. The young man had the uncanny ability to insult and infuriate everyone around him if he wanted to. Why, Estel would even be able to make Mithrandir throw a tantrum!

When the last rays of the sun vanished behind the mountains and the lake was bathed in a deep black, Legolas closed his eyes and turned on his side on the bed. Another day had passed and still no sign that the kidnappers would contact him anytime soon. While he lay in the gathering darkness, images of what the captors could have done to Estel tormented him, and Legolas barely suppressed a sniff. When had his heart began to hurt that much? Not often in his long life had Legolas felt his heart ache with such a terrible pain.

Lying on the bed that still smelled of his friend, hugging a pillow close to him, Legolas barely registered the time that flew by. Neither did he hear the sounds of music and laughter that floated up to his room from the crowd below in the inn. So immersed was he in his thoughts of doom, that he was jostled awake by the timid knock on the door. His head flew around so quickly he cracked his neck. With a fluid motion he grabbed his long knives from the bedside table. Finally….

Rushing silently to the door, Legolas grabbed the handle with one hand and raised the knives with the other. After taking a deep breath, he threw the door open, ready to attack, should it be necessary. When his eyes fell on the person standing in front of him, his eyes widened slightly before he frowned suspiciously.

"Aye?"

--oOo--

Aragorn took a deep breath, let it out slowly, waited a moment, and then took another deep breath. He was lying on his side in the small boat, his head resting on the rather cold planks. His dark hair hung in sweaty locks around his face, plastered to his temples. His shirt was not faring any better, sticking to his chest and back, drenched with sweat. He exhaled slowly, feeling his dry lips protest the movement slightly, before he took another deep breath.

For four days he had been caught in the small storage room of the boat, with nothing but his thoughts as company. Every evening one of his captors visited him, gave him a few pieces of stale bread and let him drink from a cup of lukewarm water. The food and water he was receiving were not nearly enough to satisfy his hunger and thirst. Aragorn was sure that he would have difficulty standing on his own for a prolonged period of time. If he could stand at all, that was, given the fact that he had not been able to stand or stretch properly for four days now.

Every time his kidnappers came to him, Aragorn tried to speak with them, asking them questions, but he received no answers. Instead, the men glared at him, tightlipped. By now, Aragorn knew that it was pointless to ask questions. These men would not talk to him.

Releasing another deep breath, Aragorn suppressed a dry cough, wincing when his head pounded painfully. He was so thirsty…. Over the days, the air in the small space he was currently residing in had constantly risen in temperature, and it was now so warm in the boat that Aragorn could feel the sweat roll off of him in rivulets. Only the fact that the water surrounding the boat was cold and therewith cooling the planks, gave Aragorn the chance to bear the heat at all. More than once the thought that he was lying in a wooden coffin that was slowly burning to ashes flittered through his mind. At least his stomach had stopped complaining after the first day in the belly of the boat.

The few minutes that the hatch to the storage room was opened every day was not enough to air the room. It was so stuffy that Aragorn had trouble catching his breath, and his lungs felt as if with every breath he took, not air but warm water filled them. So, his head was pounding from lack of water and fresh air, his legs were hurting from lack of use, and to top matters off, his shoulders were killing him. Aragorn had not managed to free his wrists from the rough cord they were bound with, and he knew that it would be pointless, anyway. The moment his kidnappers saw that he had freed himself, they would simply tie him up again.

There really was nothing that Aragorn could do to improve his situation. His hope to be freed soon had carried him through the first day, his anger through the second and his dark thoughts of retribution through the third. But now, weakened and feeling absolutely miserable, he could find nothing to concentrate his thoughts on that would make him feel any better. So, he concentrated on his breathing, hoping that filling his lungs with enough air would at least diminish the pounding in his head. So far, it had not helped any.

Of course, his mind was constantly with Legolas, but it only depressed him immensely and made him worry incredibly. Was Legolas all right? What would his friend do if the kidnappers did not contact him? Would Legolas think that something even more sinister had happened to him? And what _would_ Legolas do when the kidnappers contacted him? Aragorn hoped that the elf would not do something stupid, but he knew his lover good enough to know that Legolas was easy to rile in situations like these. He was, after all, the son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood.

Taking another deep breath, Aragorn felt his thoughts return to the topic that had captured his attention most of these four days. WHY oh why had these men taken him captive? What did they want from Legolas? Aragorn was by now sure that these men were no slave traders or mere killers. They could have sneaked up on him in the stable and killed him then and there. They could have forced the elf to go with them willingly; taking him, Aragorn, was bait. No, they must have planned something else. Something for which they needed Legolas's cooperation.

But, for the life of him, Aragorn could not imagine what that was. What would these men need an elf for?

Suddenly, Aragorn heard the unmistakable sound of the oars of a vessel. Listening, he could hear the waves brake on wood, and a few moments later his boat was shaken gently. It bobbed for a few moments as it was secured to another boat, and then dipped deeper into the water when a man boarded it.

Grudgingly, Aragorn rolled onto his back, gazing at the dark spot on the ceiling where he knew the hath was located. His mouth was dry and sweat poured off his brow; his whole body longed for the hath to be opened, so that cold night air could stream in. And, if he was honest with himself, he was really looking forward to the visit of his captors, for it meant water and something to eat.

The small boat bobbed unsteadily on the waves and the sound of the ticktack of metal chains reached Aragorn's ears. The bolt that held the hatch closed was removed and a moment later, the porthole opened with a creaking sound. Cold air streamed into the stuffy room. Aragorn instinctively filled his lungs with the fresh air, unheeding of the pain this caused his dry throat. For a tiny moment he closed his eyes and let the cool air wash over his hot face. But only a moment later he opened them again to glare at the face that appeared in the opening above him. It was another man this time, Aragorn realized, not the red haired one. This one was bearded, the one who had pressed a knife to his neck in the stable and threatened Legolas.

The man leered down at him, his face barely more than a bright speck against the dark background. "Time to leave, ranger." The bearded man disappeared from the opening, but Aragorn could still hear his voice. He was giving orders, "Rory, Willie, get him out of there and on board of The White Gull. Nibs, secure the boat!"

Aragorn's stomach clenched in expectancy. So this was it, he thought. The time of waiting was over. He knew not whether he was glad that his time inside his small prison was over, of fearful that now the time had come when things would get ugly. For ugly, they always did. Those men were no saints, and whatever they had planned for Legolas and him could not be good. But still, Aragorn mused when he felt the boat dip deeper into the water when the two men got on board, everything is better than being held captive in this small, hot, confined space. 'And', he thought with no little pleasant anticipation, 'I will see Legolas again.'

A moment later, a small ladder was towed down into the room. The man called Willie clambered down, his face already red and sweaty. He stared down at Aragorn, his eyes unmoving. In his hand, he held a knife. "Just to make this clear, ranger," he threatened, "if you make one false move, I will gut you like a fish." Aragorn made no move, and after a moment the man put the knife away. With one quick movement, he flipped Aragorn around so that he lay on his stomach. His shoulders protested the act and pain shot through them. Suppressing a grunt of pain, Aragorn pressed his forehead against the planks. Why did ruffians always have to be so rude? While he tried to manage the pain, Willie secured a long rope at the cord that already bound his wrists. "To make sure that you don't try to flee, ranger." He said, grinning.

Together with the man called Rory, Willie heaved Aragorn up the ladder and onto the deck of the small vessel. His legs, unused for days, would not support Aragorn's weight, and had it not been for the strong arms of the two men, he would have fallen face first onto the wooden planks. Once out of the stale room that had been his prison for four days, Aragorn breathed in deeply. The air was cool and fresh, and the breeze that played his with hair was refreshing. It was as if he had been released from an oven. Gradually, his head cleared and Aragorn felt his headache recede. But, alas, he was given only a few short minutes to enjoy his new found freedom. Willie and Rory shoved him across the deck of the vessel and then practically threw him onboard of the other boat, which was not very much bigger than the other one.

They made him sit on the planks. The rope that wound around his wrists was secured to the wooden railing, making sure that he would not be able to flee. If he now jumped off the boat, he would be dragged behind and surely drown in the ice cold water. While Rory and Willie ventured off, the red haired men called Nibs untethered the smaller boat and secured it to one of the wooden stilts that held the city of Esgaroth above the lake. Madoc was nowhere to be seen.

Closing his eyes, Aragorn rested his head against the railing. It was pure bliss to be out in the open again, with fresh air all around him. The wind was cold and quickly making him shiver, but compared to his prison, this was indefinitely better. If only his legs and shoulders would stop hurting so much, and the pounding in his head would cease altogether. Suddenly, there was a sharp command, and a moment later, Nibs jumped lightly onto deck. The whole boat titled from side to side, but by now Aragorn was used to the dancing of the waves. His stomach did not protest. Another sharp command was uttered, followed by the creaking of wood and the clanking of iron. A moment later, the boat bucked, before it began to move away from the stilts. They were leaving his prison behind, and Aragorn felt a sense of relief flood him. Whatever was coming now, at least it would be over soon and he would see Legolas again.

For a few minutes, Aragorn heard nothing but the slapping of the waves against the hull of the ship and the oars cutting through the water. But then, the pressure in the air changed. It became colder, the wind stronger. Opening his eyes, Aragorn looked around. There was not much to see, for it was almost utterly dark around him. But then, he turned his head skywards, and he could see that they were no longer under the city. There were no stars, for mountains of clouds filled the sky. Their underside shone green and yellow, even in the dark. Returning his look to the world around him, Aragorn saw that the vessel was slowly pulling alongside the city, only a few yards away from the wooden piers and walkways. No lamps lightened the boat, and Aragorn knew that the men wanted not to be seen. The city, on the other hand, was awash with lamps and lights, making it possible for the men to guide their ship through the near darkness.

While they moved over the lake, so close to the city, Aragorn wondered what to do. Surely it was not so late that the inhabitants of Lake-town were already asleep. He could scream for help, jump over board and try to reach one of the piers before the rope dragged him back. There must be town-keepers around…

Before he could do anything, though, a knife was pressed against his neck and a cold voice reached his ears, "I would not try that if I were you, ranger. There is no one out there to hear you. The town is hiding from the storm, as it usually does." Glaring at his captor, Aragorn wanted to make a biting remark, but a piece of stinking cloth was pressed against his lips and a moment later he was effectively gagged. Grumbling under his breath, Aragorn shot a withering look at Madoc, but it availed him nothing.

A few minutes later, the boat stopped and a rope was flung onto the pier. Nibs jumped off the vessel and towed it to the pier, before he disappeared in the darkness. Upon a command from Madoc, Willie and Rory cut Aragorn loose from the railing, pushed him onto the pier and then down the walkway. They rounded a small house, and even in the darkness Aragorn could see that it was shabby and rundown. At the other end of the walkway there was another pier. Aragorn saw that a greater boat was fastened there, bigger than the two boats he had seen before. This one was lit with a few lamps, and it had a mast and two sails. Unceremoniously, Willie and Rory pulled him onto the deck and then guided him down a steep flight of stairs.

'And here we go again.' Aragorn mused darkly, as the two men pushed him inside a small bunk. He could make out a hammock and a small table, which was nailed to the floor. There was no window, and Aragorn knew that this bunk was under the water level. It was not an encouraging thought.

"Inside with you." Willie said, grabbing Aragorn's elbow and pushing him further into the bunk. The room was bigger than the one he had been held in before, but by no means large. With the three of them inside, it was filled completely. While Willie held his arm, Rory reached around him and fastened the rope that bound his wrists to a beam in the wall. Willie's hold on his arm was painful, and Aragorn knew that it would leave bruises. "There, all done." Rory muttered, then left the room quickly. Willie let go of Aragorn's arm, but he did not leave immediately. He looked at Aragorn from head to foot, and then shook his head, "This will be over soon, boy. And if you cooperate, it will be over even sooner." Seeing the unconvinced look in Aragorn's eyes, he added, "I don't want to kill you or the elf, ranger. But I will if I have to. We all have sacrificed too much to let us being stopped now. Neither you nor that elf will get in our way." He took a step closer towards Aragorn and pointed a finger at him, "That elf friend of yours better get here soon, for I'm tired of waiting."

With that, Willie left the room and closed the door behind him. Aragorn heard the bolt slide shut, and then the heavy footsteps of the man on the stairs that led to the deck. Alone once more, Aragorn sighed through the gag in his mouth. Another ship, another prison. Tugging at his bonds halfheartedly, he found that they were as tight as before. Frustrated, he glanced around the room for something that would help him free himself, but the room was bare; not even a fork or spoon lay around. Aragorn shook his head and slowly slid down the wall at his back. His legs hurt, as did his shoulders, but at least he could stretch now. Rolling his shoulders to loosen the stiff muscles, he let his thoughts wander.

The man had said that he did not want to kill him, but would if the need arose. What did that mean? That they would not hurt him and Legolas? And what did they need them for, anyway? It was confusing and frustrating to be so left in the dark. Sighing once more, Aragorn thought about the last sentence the man had uttered. '_That elf friend of yours better get here soon, for I'm tired of waiting._' What had he meant by that?

Had they contacted Legolas? Was he on his way? His heart beat wildly in his chest when he thought of his lover. How he wished to see Legolas, to talk to him, to be held by him again. Without him, he felt lonely, bereft of the sparkle of life that made his existence worthwhile. He knew that for a warrior, such devotion and dependability was dangerous. But his heart belonged to Legolas, and he knew that should he ever lose the elf, he would not have the will to stay in this world for long. He would soon follow after him, he was sure.

Trying to dispel those morbid thoughts, Aragorn concentrated on the here and now. Legolas was out there somewhere, trying to find him. He would soon see him again, and then they would work together to end this. They would win in the end, as they always did. And then, they would return home with another one of their adventurous tales to tell around the fire.

Then why could he not shake the dark feeling inside of him, that it would be different this time? That something bad would happen soon?

--oOo--

Legolas peered outside into the corridor. A lamp hung next to the door, illuminating the person standing in front of his room. To Legolas's surprise, it was neither of the men who had taken Aragorn captive four days ago. Nor was it a beggar or a pick-pocked, or another of the men Legolas had expected to come and bring him a message. Instead, the waitress from the Fat Fisherman stood before him. She was still wearing her apron, and her locks had come loose from the ponytail. She looked as if she had been working for hours in the inn's common room.

"How can I help you, girl?" Legolas asked, when the maid did not say a single word. She just stared at him, a bit shy and uncomfortable. At his words, her cheeks colored. She took a step towards him and reached out her hand. In it, she held a piece of parchment. "A man asked me to give this to you, sir."

Legolas took the parchment but did not open it. Narrowing his eyes, he asked sharply, "Who gave it to you?"

She shrugged, her cheeks reddening further. "I don't know. Someone." It was clear that she felt uncomfortable in Legolas's presence. She glanced down the corridor towards the stairs. Seeing that he had to calm down, lest the girl would run away, Legolas softened his voice, "What did he look like?"

"Tall, red haired. He had freckles." The girl now blushed in earnest, and Legolas saw the flicker of girlish emotions in her eyes. He sighed inwardly. This girl did not know who had given her the message. But he had another question to ask, "When did he give you this?" He held the paper up into the air.

"Around noon." She said, shrugging once more. "But he asked me to wait until sundown to give this to you." When she saw Legolas's eyes widen, she quickly added, "I should go now, the inn is full tonight." With that she turned and vanished down the corridor. Slowly, Legolas closed the door and locked it. When he moved towards the small lamp in the room, his hands shook. This was it. This parchment would tell him the next step, would lead him to Aragorn. It did not matter that he had missed catching one of the kidnappers, for as long as this small piece of information told him enough to find his young lover.

He opened the parchment with trembling fingers. The letters were bolt, written in black ink and barely readable. It was obvious that the one who had written this letter was not used in the art of writing.

"_Elf,_

_If you want to see the ranger again, do as we say. If you don't you will never see him again, nor find his body. We will make sure of that. But if you do as we say, we will give the ranger back as soon as your task is done._

_Leave the inn and follow the street southwards until you reach the end of town. Turn left and follow the smallest road. You will reach a corner where a fishmonger is located. Turn north again. At the end of the road you will find piers. We await you at pier 15. Come alone and leave your weapons behind._

_We will watch you. We will follow you. You have one hour. One mistake and the ranger dies._

_We are waiting._"

Legolas heart raced. He read the letter four times, memorizing every word. From what he could read between the lines, Aragorn was still alive, and they would not kill him if he did what they said. Some of the tension he had felt these previous days left his body. Aragorn was still alive…But, what if they lied? What if they had already killed him? Cold fear plunged into his stomach and Legolas felt his hands tremble stronger.

"No!" He said aloud, clenching his fists around the parchment. "He is not dead, they have not killed him, because they need him as bait." He nodded to himself, making himself believe his words. Legolas tucked the letter into a pocket in his tunic and reached for his cloak. The letter said that he had only one hour to find that pier. He'd better hurry. Biting down on his lip, he let his gaze travel over his twin knives and his bow. The letter said no weapons. And that they would watch him. He could neither take his knives nor the bow, for both were too obvious to miss.

Curse them, Legolas thought with agitation. Instead of the knives, he tugged a long dagger into his boot, another one behind his belt. They would have to do. With one last sweeping glance around the room, Legolas hastened to the door and left the inn.

Half an hour later, Legolas turned north at the fishmonger. It had taken him less time to reach the southern part of the town than he had thought. The streets were almost empty of the usual nightcrawlers; drunkards, thieves and the homeless. The storm was building and it was driving the people homewards or into the inns. Already it was storming inside the small streets, making lamps dangle dangerously and pushing the waves of the lake up onto the walkways. Once the storm broke loose, it would be suicidal to walk on the narrow walkways close to the seething waters. One strong gust, slippery underground, and a hapless traveler would vanish in the gushing floods.

But Legolas did not think about the risk while he hastened through the narrow streets. Aragorn was somewhere out there, maybe even at the destination he was right now headed to. Every step he took brought him closer to his friend, and that was all that mattered. But although he was focused on his destination, Legolas was not unconscious of his surroundings. More than once he surreptitiously glanced over his shoulder, trying to determine whether he was really being followed. He had thought that he would spy anyone who dared to follow him, but so far he had neither seen nor heard anyone. Maybe the letter was lying, and they were not following him. But Legolas could not be sure, and so he kept his eyes and ears open for sounds and sights that were out of place.

In much less time than was normally needed to cover the distance from the inn towards these piers, Legolas reached his destination. The wind was sharply howling around the edges of the buildings, and it blew his hair around his face. It was almost pitch black, the few lamps the only source of light, for the stars were veiled by the clouds. The sound of the waves slapping against the stilts and planks filled the silence that lay heavy over this part of the city.

Looking around, Legolas saw no living soul. All was quiet and the houses around were not lit with light. It seemed as if no one lived in this part of Esgaroth, and after a few minutes of quiet waiting, Legolas began to wonder if he had read the instructions correctly. With the lake in his back and the empty pier in front, Legolas waited. Minutes passed, and he began to feel nervous. Where were the kidnappers? What where they waiting for? Maybe they had meant another pier? His gaze quickly moved to the small number that had been painted on the pier. No, he was where he was supposed to be. So why did they made him wait?

Suddenly, a sound pierced the stillness. With reflexes honed from centuries as a warrior, Legolas reached behind him to unsheathe his twin knives. But his hand only found air, and a split second later he remembered that he had left his knives behind in the inn. Letting his arms fall to his side, he pierced the darkness with his keen blue eyes. A man stepped from the shadows of one of the more shabbier houses. Even in the dim light Legolas recognized him as the man who had taken Aragorn captive. It was the bearded man from the stables.

The man clapped his hands slowly as he approached. The sound was like a clap of thunder in the oppressive stillness of the night. Before Legolas could utter a word, the man spoke, "Congratulations, elf. You came alone and unarmed, just as I ordered. I have to give you this, elf, you know how to follow orders."

Gritting his teeth, Legolas kept a scathing remark behind his teeth. Instead, he lifted his chin a fraction and said, "I have come. Where is the ranger?"

Madoc smiled and shook his head slowly, "Impatient, aren't we?"

"Where – is – he?" Legolas said slowly, pronouncing each word carefully. He was already tired of this game. Seeing his lover's captor stand before him, at arm's length, Legolas felt the urge to charge and strike him. This man was the reason that he had been in pain and worry the last four days. This man had taken Aragorn away and still held him hostage. Legolas knew that he would have no pity with him, once he got his hands on him.

Instead of answering the question, Madoc turned and gestured down the pier, "Shall we? There is still much to do tonight, and we should not waste time."

But Legolas shook his head and clenched his fists at his side, "I will go nowhere until I have seen Strider."

"Strider, huh?" Madoc tiled his head to the side and a small smile played around his lips. "You know, he never told us his name. Strange name, though." With those words, Madoc made his way down the dark pier, turning his back on Legolas.

Fury burned inside of Legolas. The way this man spoke about his lover, it was tearing him up inside. So callous, as if Aragorn was a mere thing, and not a human being. Angry, Legolas hastened after the kidnapper. Before he could think his actions through, he grabbed the man by the arm and spun him around. His face was but inches from Madoc's and his voice was a mere hiss, "If you have hurt him…"

"Release me, elf." Madoc spat, his eyes full of anger. "Or you will never see your precious Strider again."

"Maybe you have already killed him." Legolas hissed, his anger not lessening. Neither did his hold on the man.

"Maybe we have." Madoc threatened, and he twisted his arm out of Legolas's grasp. "And maybe we have not. The only way for you to find out is to do as I say, elf." Madoc grunted, his face flashed with angry spots. When Legolas did not answer, he turned on his heels and marched down the pier. Infuriated and not a little tempted to just kill this man, Legolas weighted his options.

Option one was to fight this man and try to get the answers he wanted. But that would probably avail him nothing, for this man would not tell him where Aragorn was. Maybe he did not even know. After all, he had companions who had probably hid Aragorn at an unknown destination. Option two was to do as the man said and play along. This was something Legolas really did not want to do. But if this man would lead him to Aragorn? After all, he did not even know what this man wanted him to do. Maybe it was not that bad after all. A tiny voice in the back of Legolas's head roared with laughter at the thought.

And option three was to return to Mirkwood, gather some warriors and comb through Esgaroth until he found Aragorn. It was an appealing thought, and Legolas was tempted to act on it. Surely, with the father's warriors, they would be able to find the young ranger, would they not? But Legolas was not sure. Esgaroth was a large city, with many hiding places. And while he was gone, those men could to Valar know what to Aragorn, including moving him from the city. No, option three would not help him any. Sighing inwardly and clenching his fists, Legolas turned and followed the man down the dark pier. How he hated it when he was forced to do what he did not want to do!

With a few long strides Legolas reached the side of the man. Madoc gave him a quick glance, but said nothing. A smug smile touched the corners of his lips, and Legolas once again pondered option one. But not for long, because a large shape began to form in the darkness in front of them. A moment later, Legolas saw that it was a ship, with mast and sail and everything. It must have been a fishing boat once, although he could see no nets or crab cages. What he did see, though, were dim lamps that had been covered with cloths, so that their light would not shine onto the pier. Legolas grudgingly conceded that he would not have seen the ship had the man not led him to it.

Stopping at the gangway, Madoc stretched his arm out and gestured at the ship, "After you, elf." Legolas glared at him out of narrowed eyes, but then he boarded the ship without so much as a word. Once on deck, he saw that there were three other men. When they saw him, they eyed him warily, but they did not threaten him. They knew they did not have to, because they had something to blackmail him with. Or rather, someone.

Legolas let his eyes quickly travel across the deck. There were ropes and some wooden boxes, tools and dark shapes he could not identify. But Aragorn was not on deck. His heart beat more quickly in his chest; a part of him had hoped that he would see his friend again. Turning, he stared at Madoc who climbed onto the ship after him. "Where is he?" He said through clenched teeth.

"Don't worry, you will see him again." Madoc hauled in the gangway and let it clatter to the ground. "If you do as we say, that is." When he turned around to walk to the front of the ship, Legolas's hand snatched his wrist. Blue eyes met dark ones, and Legolas's fingers held the man so tightly that he would leave bruises. "I will do nothing for as long as I don't know if he is still alive."

Madoc tried to wrench his arm away, but this time, Legolas would not let go. "I want to see him, now!" Legolas voice was barely above a whisper, and Madoc seemed to shake under his intense stare. But Legolas was so focused on Madoc, that he forgot the three other man. Suddenly, cold steel pressed against his neck.

"Release him or I will kill you right here and now." Slowly, Legolas shifted his gaze to the man that held a knife against his throat. For a moment, he did not react, but then he slowly unclenched his fingers and released Madoc. Freed, the man took a large step backwards. "That was unwise of you, elf." He breathed, panting and rubbing his wrist.

"So?" Legolas challenged, straightening up to his full height. The knife vanished from his throat, but Willie hovered nearby. He was ready to act, should Legolas try anything. "From what I can see here I think that the ranger is already dead. Why should I help you?" Pain hit his heart as he said those words, but Legolas steeled his heart against it. He did not really believe that, but he longed to learn the truth. Was Aragorn still alive? Had they hurt him? He turned and made as if to leave the ship. His chest hurt incredibly at the notion of leaving Aragorn, but he hoped that they would not call his bluff. Leaving Aragorn was the last thing on his mind, and he knew that he would do whatever these men told him to, if it brought Aragorn back into his arms.

His right foot already touched the wooden railing when there was a shout. "Wait!" Legolas froze, but did not turn. Madoc called out to him, "The ranger is not dead, but he will be if you leave now."

Turning around, Legolas stared at Madoc, his face a mask of control, while his innards were rumbling nervously. "Explain."

Madoc tilted his head to the side and took one step towards Legolas. His voice was full of confidence when he spoke, "See, this ship will take us out onto the lake. To a platform, the be precise. And that, dear elf, is where the ranger is. Alone, chained to a wooden construction, swimming in the water." He paused, letting Legolas digest his words ere he continued, "This storm is getting stronger as we speak. Soon, the waves will be high enough to wash over him and take him under. And this ship," Madoc patted the mast of the boat, "is the only one that will sail out tonight. And we," he gestured at himself and the three men behind him, "are the only ones who know which platform your friend is chained to. So you see, elf, you will have to come with us if you want to save your friend."

With those words, Madoc turned and headed towards the front of the ship, while Willie, Rory and Nibs spread out to undock it. Legolas watched them, but he could not move. He was frozen. Was the man speaking the truth? Was Aragorn somewhere out there, fighting against the storm? Worried beyond measure, Legolas slowly made his way over to the railing on the other side of the ship, facing the dark lake. He knew that he would not leave the ship, he could not. If there was the small chance that Aragorn was out there and Legolas heading towards him, then he would stay.

But that did not mean that he would make it any easier on the kidnappers. Whenever one of them neared his position, he glowered at them, bestowing upon them the look he normally reserved for orcs. Soon, the three men working on deck would not look in his direction anymore, nor come near him. Satisfied at this little victory, Legolas stared out at the lake.

The storm was near breaking now. Bolts of lightning shot across the sky and a deep, growling thunder echoed in the distance. So far, no rain had fallen, but the pressure in the air was so strong, that Legolas felt his skin tingle. He knew that it was only matter of hours until the storm would truly be unleashed, and he fervently hoped that he would be back in Esgaroth by then, with Aragorn whole and unhurt at his side.

Soon, the ship was shooting across the Long Lake, the wind almost bursting its sails. Ropes and corps tensed, and the wooden planks groaned under the strain of the waves. Froth sprayed the deck, and after but a few minutes, Legolas was drenched in water. The men were busily holding the ship on its course, and although Legolas could see no lights shimmer on the water, he had the unerring feeling that the men knew where they were headed. Fear and hope mingled inside his heart, and he wished that the ship would hurry. If the man had told the truth, then Aragorn was in dire need of help.

'_I am coming to get you, Estel._' Legolas thought, staring into the darkness. '_I will be there soon, melethron._'

--oOo--

Under the deck, bound to the wall of the small bunk, Aragorn felt the ship roll from side to side, as if a giant was toying with it. One time, the whole ship would be lifted up, reaching for the sky, before it fell down into another trough of the sea. He was not sick again, but his back and shoulders protested the motion nevertheless. The rope that bound his wrists cut into his skin, and Aragorn wished for something to brace his feet against, so that he would not be so susceptible to the ship's movements.

While he sat in the darkness, bound and gagged, he could not help but think about the plan of the men who had taken him captive. Where were they headed this late at night and in the middle of a storm? What was out there in the dark that they wished to reach? For a moment, Aragorn pondered the possibility of the man crossing the Long-lake to reach a destination at its other shore, but then dismissed the idea. There was nothing of interest at the other shore; only wide plains, hills and a few smaller settlements that were autonomous and produced no goods of interest. No, wherever these men wanted to go, it was someone on the lake. Maybe another ship? That was possible, but Aragorn did not know why it was then necessary to meet out on the lake, and not at a pier.

And what about Legolas? How was his friend to find them on the lake? Surely they could not mean for him to swim across it? Not even Legolas, with all his elven strength and endurance could survive long in these cold waters, and surely not when a storm was raging. No…Suddenly, Aragorn's eyes widened. The only possibility was that Legolas was already on the ship! There was no other way for his friend and lover to find them. The Long-lake was not called the 'Long'-lake because it was so small, after all. In the dark, with a storm brewing, not even the most skilled seaman would find his way towards a single, unlit ship.

Automatically, Aragorn turned his head towards the ceiling. Was Legolas truly onboard? Pictures flashed before Aragorn's inner eye. While had been held captive in the small boat, his mind had made up images of what the men would do to Legolas once he was in their hands. What had they planned? What did they need him for? One gruesome image replaced the other, and Aragorn shuddered visibly. If Legolas was alone with those men right now, thinking that they would do cruel things to him, he would do as they said. His heart began to hammer in his chest. He would not let them hurt his friend, not because of him.

Convinced that Legolas was on the ship, he began to struggle more desperately against his bonds.

--oOo--

The storm seemed to be directly overhead when the four men moored the ship. The strong metal chain of the anchor rattled against the wood of the deck, before the loud splash of the anchor hitting the lake echoed around the deck. Quickly, the men stroked the sails, before they secured them to the mast. The wind was now so strong that they had to shout to make themselves heard above the howling. It was just a matter of minutes before the storm broke loose.

While the man moored the ship, Legolas leaned over the railing. They had stopped at a wooden platform that swam on the waves. In the middle of the platform, a square hole had been cut from the wood. Above the hole, long poles had been erected, triangular in form, which reminded Legolas of the wooden constructions used to cook something above a fire. From those wooden spikes, a metal chain hung down into the water, with a small brass bell on the top. Suddenly, Legolas knew where they were. This was not just a platform, but a fisherman's platform; one of the constructions used to catch crabs. He had shown these constructions to Aragorn when they had first entered the city.

Aragorn! Legolas's blue eyes pierced the surrounding darkness frantically. Where was his friend? Spray gushed onto the platform, which wobbled heavily on the agitated waves. Worry crept from Legolas's stomach to his heart. Where, in the name of the Valar, was Aragorn? Madoc had said that Aragorn was chained to the construction, forced to swim in the water. But try as he might, Legolas could not see Aragorn. His heart began to pound heavily. What if the waves had taken him under? What if Aragorn was drowning? Without thinking twice, Legolas grabbed the railing and swung his legs over it. He landed cat like on the platform, looking around wildly.

"Strider!" He called, and his voice was carried away on the wind. There was no response.

Behind him, a rough laugh flowed down from the ship, causing Legolas to turn. On the ship, Rory and Willie let down a walkway, both grinning stupidly. Madoc slowly came down to the platform, grinning at Legolas. "So, here we are. Finally."

"Where is he?" Legolas ground out, his hands balled into fists at his side. What had these men done to Aragorn? Anger bubbled up inside of him, and he felt his control slip just a little. "Speak!"

"We have done nothing to him. Yet." Madoc said calmly. Unfazed by Legolas's obvious anger, he made his way over to the construction, while Rory and Nibs began to unload wooden crates from the ship.

Furious now, Legolas spun around, "You lied!" His eyes pierced the man, but Madoc only shrugged his shoulders.

"You would not have cooperated had I not lied, elf. It is as simple as that." Turning away from Legolas, Madoc began to light a few oil lamps on the platform. Their light was not bright enough to illuminate the darkness, but their glow was enough for Legolas to see that – indeed – Aragorn was nowhere to be seen.

Fear, cold and merciless, clenched Legolas's heart. His mind screamed at him that Aragorn was long dead, that they had killed him as soon as they had vanished with him. But his heart denied this, and Legolas felt himself being torn. Standing in the heavy wind, his hair blowing from side to side, one part of him wanted nothing more than to sprint forward and strangle Madoc. Another part of him wanted to scream and rant and shake his fists at the unfairness of the situation. Four days he had waited, and now this mere man was telling him that it had all been a lie! Tears of frustration gathered in his eyes, but he blinked them away furiously.

"Then where is he?" Legolas asked, his voice shaking just a little. The men, unaccustomed to elvish emotions and voices, did not notice.

"Not here, as you can see." Madoc said, gesturing at the platform. He was done lighting the oil lamps, and now helping Rory, Willie and Nibs with the crates. It seemed as if they were installing something to the three pikes in the middle. Something made of fishing nets and metal weights. And there was strong winch, too.

But Legolas could not think about the thing that those men were making. His only thought was Aragorn, and he felt himself slowly loose his last reign on his self-control. His hands balled into fists at his side. He made a menacing step towards Madoc. "Where…is…he?" He hissed through his teeth, looking more like a lethal predator than an elf in that moment.

Hearing the dangerous undertone in Legolas's voice, Madoc turned towards him. "He is alive, if that is what you mean."

"I will not ask again, human." Legolas gritted his teeth and counted to five in his head. It would not help him find Aragorn when he killed this man now. "I want to know where Strider is. Now."

"And if you don't tell you, elf?" Madoc challenged, his hand straying slowly to the dagger that was strapped to his belt. Legolas was radiating anger and fury, and Madoc would take no chances.

"If you don't tell me, then I will jump into the lake and swim as far away as possible." Legolas answered, his face suddenly calm. "And you will never get whatever you want me to do for you."

Out of the corner of his eye, Legolas saw that Rory and Willie exchanged a worried look, but Madoc seemed to calmly consider his words. After almost a minute of silence, the bearded man nodded his head, "Willie, bring the ranger."

Willie turned immediately and to Legolas's surprise, the man headed back towards the big ship. After just a few moments the tall man vanished under deck. His hands suddenly became very cold, and Legolas grimaced at his own stupidity. Of course, these men would not keep Aragorn where they could not keep an eye on him! Furthermore, to have him here would enable them to use him as a means to force Legolas to do as they said. And lastly, it only proved to Legolas what he had only assumed earlier; that Madoc was slimmer than he let on. He must have known that Legolas would demand proof that Aragorn was still alive.

His eyes glued to the ship, Legolas waited with held breath. It took Willie only a few minutes to return onto deck, but for Legolas is seemed to take much longer. When the man finally appeared, Legolas felt his breath leave his lungs in a relived rush. Four days he had waited for this single moment. Now that it had come, he felt his whole body shake in heartfelt relief.

Before him, Willie pushed a slightly stumbling Aragorn onto the deck. The young ranger was gagged and his arms bound behind his back, but he was walking under his own power and seemed not worse for wear. Legolas made a quick step towards him, "Strider!"

Aragorn snapped his head towards the sound, his eyes searching. Being held in the small boat and then inside the slightly bigger but still small bunk, had made his legs stiff and his muscles protested his movements. Bracing himself against the ups and downs of the ship these last few hours had not helped the pain in his back or shoulders either. Willie pushed him up the stairs and over the deck, unheeding of his stumbling. It was dark around him, and Aragorn could barely see where he was going. The ship was bucking under him, and he felt his feet slip dangerously. He was just cursing Willie under his breath, trying to balance his weight, when he heard his name being called.

Immediately, he searched the darkness with his eyes. There were lamps lit a few feet under the deck, and there, besides one of them, stood Legolas. Aragorn felt himself take in a deep breath and release it slowly. Legolas was here. He was unbound and obviously unhurt. Relief, warm and toe-tingling, coursed through his body. At least these men had not hurt his friend. Gagged, he could not call out to his lover, and so he merely nodded his head in his direction, trying to convey with his eyes what he could not say with words. A small smile lit up Legolas's lips, and his eyes shoved the well known sparkle that was only reserved for Aragorn. Trying to smile back, Aragorn was suddenly pushed forwards again.

"Move, ranger, or I'll make you." Willie grunted behind him, pushing him forwards once more.

Surprised and his attention elsewhere, Aragorn was not quick enough to compensate for Willie's impatient push from behind. Stumbling forwards, his right knee collided with the wooden railing, making him grunt in pain. Losing his balance completely through the impact, Aragorn fell to his knees. Pain shot up his legs and right into his shoulders. It was not bad enough to render him motionless, but enough to let him clamp his eyes shut for a moment to control his breathing through the gag.

"Move!" Willie kicked him viciously, causing Aragorn to groan softly. When had that man become so cruel? He thought idly, while Willie grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to his feet. A strong wave hit the ship and Aragorn almost fell down again. But Willie held him upright, and then unceremoniously pulled him down the gangway and onto the platform.

"Strider, are you alright?" Legolas was at his side in an instant. Aragorn felt himself being pulled backwards and a second later cold steel pressed against his neck. Instinctively he pushed his head backwards, so that the blade would not cut into his skin. He heard an unmistakable angry growl and he hoped that Legolas would not do something rash. Under his feet, the platform swayed from side to side, and Aragorn knew that he would not be able to fight properly, due to his stiff legs and bound arms.

Tilting his head just a little bit, Aragorn searched for Legolas's face. He did not have to search long; Legolas stood just a few feet from him, his arms outstretched as if he wanted to touch him. His eyes were narrowed dangerously, and Aragorn could tell that Legolas was at the edge of starting a fight. Aragorn shook his head minutely; a fight would not help them now. They were four against two, and while Aragorn did not doubt Legolas's ability to deal with these men, he doubted whether they would both make it out of this situation alive and unhurt.

Seeing his motion, Legolas's frown deepened. His gaze became asking, and Aragorn shook his head once more. The knife dug deeper into his skin, causing a small trickle of blood to run down his neck and disappear into his shirt. Legolas snarled angrily, but then he took a deep breath and visibly relaxed his muscles. He nodded minutely at Aragorn, letting him know that he would do nothing that would endanger him. He took another step towards him, but Madoc's sharp command stopped his further approach.

"That is near enough, elf."

Legolas did not grace the man with his scowl, but kept his eyes focused on his friend. Aragorn felt the elven stare appraise him from head to foot, and when Legolas's eyes returned to his face, Aragorn saw the worry in the blue depth. When Legolas's spoke, he used Sindarin, so that the men would not understand. His voice was soft, full of barely concealed concern, "_Manen naly__ë, Estel__?_ _They did not hurt you, did they?_" For a brief moment, Legolas's gaze lingered on his jaw, and Aragorn knew that even in the darkness his friend could see the dark bruise that must be visible on his cheek and jaw.

Aragorn shook his head slowly, so as not to prompt Willie to slit his throat right there and then. He was in pain, yes, and still incredibly thirsty, but the men had not hurt him. Narrowing his eyes, Aragorn tried to ask the same question. Legolas seemed to understand, for he nodded his head, "_I am fine, they did not touch me._"

Legolas shot a quick glance at Madoc, "_I wonder what all this is about. They would not tell me, but I fear that we will find out soon enough._" Legolas gazed imploringly at Aragorn, his eyes bright with an inner fire, "_I will not allow them to hurt you, Estel. Whatever it is they want, they will not get it. We will escape, and they will regret having ever laid hands on you._"

Aragorn's heart beat faster at those words. He wanted to nod his head, but the knife at his throat thwarted his attempt. So he merely gazed back at his friend and lover, trying to show his trust and confidence in Legolas through his eyes. Before Legolas could say more, though, Madoc came forward.

"That is enough." He gestured at Rory, who had stood in the shadows during the conversation. "Rory, help Willie with the ranger. He will be the first to test the construction." Upon his command, Rory hastened to Willies's side and grabbed one of Aragorn's upper arms. Together, he and Willie dragged the stumbling ranger over the platform towards the construction that stood in its middle.

"What are you doing?" Legolas demanded, his hands balled into fists at his side once more. It hurt him almost physically to see those men handle Aragorn, and he hated the fact that he could not help him. It was a feeling he had never had before, and he vowed that he would never let himself be pushed in such a situation again. Never. He should have acted in the stable all those days ago. He should never have allowed those men to take Aragorn away from him.

"Well, we came here for a reason, elf. Your ranger friend served as bait, as you know. But he will also test our little construction over there. After all, we would not want you to drown when it is your turn, elf." Madoc said, his white teeth gleaming in the darkness. Oh, how Legolas wanted to knock them out of his mouth right there and then. Instead, he gritted his teeth and watched as the men pushed Aragorn with his back against one of the wooden beams of the triangle construction. If he acted now, it was very likely that Willie would slit Aragorn's throat, for the knife still rested against his neck. Furthermore, Madoc stood too far away from him to reach him before the men noticed that something was wrong.

So, Legolas watched helplessly as Rory and Willie pushed Aragorn down to his knees right in front of the square opening in the platform, keeping a good hold on his shoulders. Behind them, the once called Nibs dragged something that looked like a huge fishnet towards them. Legolas could hear the rattling of metal chains and the slapping of wood against the planks of the platform. Even with is sharp elvish eyesight, he could not make out what the thing was. While Willie kept the knife pressed against Aragorn's neck, shooting ever and anon a furtive glance in Legolas's direction, Rory and Nibs fastened ropes around Aragorn's waist, going even to far as to knot them through his belt. When all was done, they took a step back and glanced at Madoc. Anticipation stood clearly in their eyes. It was obvious that they had long waited for this moment and were now eager to see if their construction (whatever it was) worked. And in Nibs case, there was also relief in his eyes. Legolas mused that it would have been Nibs turn to test this thing, had Aragorn not taken his place. Legolas's hate for these men increased.

"Well, that went quicker than I thought." Madoc said, moving over towards the kneeling Aragorn. "Get him on his feet, but careful with the nets!" He said, gesturing at the things that trailed behind Aragorn like a long veil.

When the two men hauled him to his feet, Aragorn winced in pain. The cold and the wind had further stiffened his muscles, and even this small movement hurt. He could feel a cramp in his calf. Glowering at Madoc, he wished he could speak his mind right now. A wave hit the platform, making water slosh up out of the square opening in front of him. Aragorn swayed on his feet. He did not know what it was that the men had tied to him, but he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that it was nothing good. Turning his head backwards as much as the blade at his throat allowed, Aragorn inspected the construction.

At first he could only see nets and ropes and some metal weights. But then his eyes made out forms, knots and bracings. The nets were lined with oil cloth, patched here and there with thick black tar. Aragorn suddenly understood. The blood left his face as comprehension hit him. 'Drowning' Madoc had said earlier, and Aragorn felt a shudder race through his body. These men were crazy!

This construction was meant to enable him to breathe under water! He had seen such things in books of his father, but he had never thought that someone would actually build such a thing. In the pictures, these balloons were made of strong wood, by masters of woodcraft and the best elvish carpenters. They were smaller than the one he saw now, and much stronger. The main part of the construction would consist of a wooden box, lined with oil cloth and tar. When the box was put to water, air would stream in and be concealed inside. It enabled men to work for minutes under water, for example to repair bridges or houses. Usually, these constructions were anchored in the ground, and he remembered clearly that his father had told him that they were way too dangerous to use in open water. The current that existed in any open water would flip the construction to the side, therewith allowing air to escape and water to enter. No one who had ever dared to use this construction in open water had survived to tell the tale.

And this 'thing' these men had built, looked nothing like the pictures in the books. Instead of a wooden box that held the air, these men had merely sewn a few lines to fisher nets! Iron weights had been placed around the balloon to make him sink faster, and Aragorn very much doubted that this balloon would be able to hold air at all. If the men forced him into the water with this thing, he would surely drown. Aragorn shuddered at the thought, and turned his gaze away from the construction…only to gaze at the wide water around him. He felt his blood run cold.

The storm was near breaking, and its wind lashed at that water. The waves were so high now that they flooded the platform any now and then, making the wooden planks slippery and wet. While the wind was cold, Aragorn knew that the water would be even colder; it would freeze him mercilessly. And with his already hurting limps, his inability to use his hands and the gag, he would sink like a stone. He would not be able to keep himself above water, let alone swim. He was doomed.

Suddenly afraid, he snapped his eyes towards Legolas. Immediately the elf saw his fear, and his face turned into a worried grimace. He knew Aragorn long enough to know that the young man was scarcely scared of anything. He took one step towards him, ready to help, but Madoc's voice stopped him. "One more step, elf, and Willie will spill his blood faster than you can scream his name."

Gritting his teeth, Legolas pierced Madoc with a stare that would have made lesser men quake in their boots. Not so Madoc. His grin widening, the man took merely a step towards Aragorn and began to finally explain why they had taken the ranger captive.

"Since many years we have sought for a way to escape this miserable life in Esagorth." He gestured at the lake around him. "This is not enough for us. Fish and mussels day in day out. We want more. We need more. And whose fault was it that we live in poverty?" His eyes gleamed now with an almost maniac fire. "Ten years ago the dragon Smaug destroyed our lives. And now, we are taking back what is ours. What should have been ours ten years ago." Madoc threw his arms wide and gestured at the frothing waters. "Under our feet lies a fortune! Gold, silver, diamonds and Mithril! The dragon took it with him when he perished, and it only needs to be hauled up. Who finds it may claim it." Madoc almost whispered now. "There is enough down there to last the rest of our lives and even more. And tonight, it will be ours."

Legolas shook his head in stunned silence. These men could not mean what he thought they meant. The treasure of Smaug? Many a man and elf had played with the thought of recovering the fortune that Smaug had taken into the cold depth with him, but none had actually dared to go through with the plans. The Long-lake was deeper than anyone could dive. And furthermore, no one actually knew with certainty where the bones of Smaug rested. The dragon had fallen into the lake while he had still been trashing in the throes of death. It could very well be that the current had taken the dragon southwards or eastwards. It was suicide to try to lift the treasure. That was exactly the reason why no one had tried to claim it, not even the dwarfs.

"This is madness!" Legolas spat agitatedly. "You will never find the treasure let alone lift it. It is forever more gone."

"Ah, but we have ways and means to get it." Madoc said and gestured at Legolas. "Why do you think did we bring you here, elf?" Before Legolas could answer, the man explained, "Elves can dive deeper than any human could. They can also hold their breath for many minutes and are less susceptible to the cold than humans are. We brought you here to lift the treasure from the ground of the lake for us, elf."

Legolas could only stare at the man. This was crazy. Not even an elf could hold his breath that long. Let alone dive all the way done to the ground of the lake to find and then lift the hoard. His doubts must have been visible on his face, for Madoc gestured at the construction. "At first we did not think of an elf, of course. So we constructed this balloon to help us breathe under water. I guess, with its help, you will be able to get deep enough to find the treasure. But, the thing is, we never got around to test the balloon." Madoc grinned at Willie and Rory before he turned his dark eyes back on Legolas. "We would not want you to drown on us, elf. Therefore your ranger friend will test it first."

Madoc gave Willie and Rory a quick nod, and before Legolas could even comprehend what was going on, Willie pulled the knife from Aragorn's throat, and gave him a hard shove. Surprised, Aragorn stumbled forwards. Instead of wooden planks, his feet found nothing but air and with a suppressed shout Aragorn crashed into the freezing water. The balloon thing rattled over the platform before it, too, crashed into the dark waters.

An agonized scream ripped from Legolas's lips, "Strider!"

To be continued.

'Melethron – lover'

'Manen naly_ë_, Estel? – How are you, Estel?'


	8. 8 The breaking of the storm

**Hello. **

**Thank you all for the reviews! I was thrilled to see that you still like and read the story, although it took me so long to update. Thank you thank you thank you!! *big grin***

**So here it is, the next chapter. As you will see, I change perspective now and then. I did this to show the separate scenes from the perspective of the one who would be the most important character in the scene. **

**A special thanks to Kaylee716 for reminding me that I had to update. Haha.**

**Now, enjoy the newest chapter!**** I hope you like it.**

Chapter 8: The breaking of the storm

„_Madoc gave Willie and Rory a quick nod, and before Legolas could even comprehend what was going on, Willie pulled the knife from Aragorn's throat, and gave him a hard shove. Surprised, Aragorn stumbled forwards. Instead of wooden planks, his feet found nothing but air and with a suppressed shout Aragorn crashed into the freezing water. The balloon thing rattled over the platform before it, too, crashed into the dark waters._

_An agonized scream ripped from Legolas's lips, "Strider!"_"

Aragorn never heard Legolas's pained scream. The cold waters smashed over his head and his body tumbled down into the dark. The cold shocked his body and forced the little air he had out of his lungs. The water burned his skin like liquid fire; it hurt horrible. For a moment, Aragorn meant his blood was squeezed out of his limbs back into his chest. His heart pounded frantically against his ribs, nearly breaking them. Had he not been gagged, he would have howled in pain. Aragorn had not known that water could hurt that much.

He could feel the pull of the construction behind him, slowing his tumble, but the metal weights pulled him down mercilessly. Deeper and deeper he fell and the water pressed against him from all sides. The frantic pounding of his heart echoed in his ears, and Aragorn knew that he was close to a panic. With every foot he sank deeper, his heart rate sped up. His lungs felt as if someone had shoved a red hot poker down his throat and he knew that he needed air. And quickly so.

Tilting his head upwards (at least he thought that it was upwards), Aragorn peered into the surrounding darkness. His legs thrashed weakly, but his sodden clothing and the metal weights were too heavy. And his arms were still bound tightly, useless. He could not swim to the surface. Above him, the construction floated like a giant jellyfish. He could see the strings and knots even in the darkness. Peering closer, Aragorn was surprised to see that the linen lined nets were not bunched up, like a cloak in a pack, but stretched to the fullest. Confused, he tried to make out the reason; maybe the balloon thing was working after all and there was air above him!

And truly! Aragorn could make out the dim shimmer of air at the underside of the balloon construction. There was no mistaking the almost angry waves that splashed around in the balloon; now and then, when the current of the lake jostled the balloon, small bubbles burst free and sped upwards. Hope sprang forth in Aragorn's frantically pounding heart. If he could only reach that small air bubble, he would be able to breathe again. But the balloon floated almost two feet above him, for the ropes that bound him to it were much too long. The metal weights at his hips pulled him down with too much force. Aragorn began to struggle. But the cold numbed his limbs and he could not even feel their weak motions. Red spots appeared in his vision and his lungs screamed with agony. His heart reminded him of a caged bird, so frantic was its beat. The cold water pressed against him, paralyzing him. He knew he would not make it.

Above him on the platform, the four kidnappers stared into the seething waters with round eyes. Would the construction work as they had planned? Would the ranger survive? They did not really care if he survived, as long as the construction worked. But to their disappointment, the balloon sank into the deep waters with great speed and vanished under the black surface. It did not float slowly down, as they had imagined it would. But oh well, they would pull it back to the platform with the strong winch they had installed and try again. If they removed a few of the weights, maybe the balloon would sink slower next time. And if not…the elf could hold his breath, after all. Sighing, Madoc shrugged his shoulders. He looked almost chagrined.

Legolas, on the other hand, was panicked. He watched in horror as Aragorn vanished in the black waters. Almost at exactly the same moment, the sky boomed with thunder. A strong gust of wind swept over the platform, followed by an icy shower of rain. The storm finally broke. In seconds, Legolas was drenched to the bone. But he did not notice. For a moment he stood frozen to the platform, his mind blank with terror, before he launched himself towards the small square opening. Before the men could stop him, he threw himself headfirst into the waters.

The water was icy and even Legolas felt its bite. But he ignored the pain that rippled up and down his body. He pressed his lips tightly together and swam as fast as he could. It was almost black around him, but the fierce lighting illuminated the waters every few seconds. With his keen elvish eyesight, Legolas could see a few feet. Swimming as if Sauron himself was on his heels, Legolas cut through the water. His thoughts chased each other inside his head. Had the balloon sank straight down or should he stray left or right? Had Aragorn been able to hold his breath? Had the shock of the icy water killed Aragorn? Would he ever find his young lover or was he forever lost in the dark waters? Would this lake be their cold and wet grave for all eternity? Had he not been swimming, Legolas would have cried at the unfairness of their situation. Why did these horrible things always happen to them?

Speeding up his pace, Legolas swam deeper and deeper. The water pressed against his lungs and he felt as if he was caught in a headlock. The urge to breathe built in his lungs, but he pressed his lips tighter together. He must not waste air. Deeper and deeper Legolas swam, but there was no sign of the construction. Panic bubbled up inside of him and he pushed himself faster, past his breaking point. Legolas's limbs began to tremble from the strain, but he kept up the pace.

And then, finally, Legolas spied something lighter in all the darkness. When he got closer he saw that it was the construction. He could not see Aragorn, but he knew that his lover was strapped to it, unable to escape the weights that pulled him down. A small spark of hope sprang to life inside his heart and pushed away the panic. With but a few strong strokes Legolas reached the balloon. He grabbed one of the ropes and pulled himself downwards. He would not let go of the balloon, no matter what. If he let go, he would lose Aragorn, too.

It took Legolas only moments to pull himself downward. And then he could see him. Aragorn hang under the balloon, a dark shape in the even darker surroundings. And too Legolas's horror, he was not moving. His body was still, his eyes closed, while his hair floated around his face like seaweed. The panic that Legolas had so successfully suppressed earlier came back with a vengeance. With an agonized scream in his head, Legolas shot past the balloon.

He wrapped his strong arms around Aragorn's waist, pulling him close. The eyes did not open, and Legolas felt his heart crack. Denying the thought that he could be too late, he pushed them both upwards. But to his surprise, Aragorn would not move upwards, for the weights were too heavy. Angered and irritated, Legolas quickly reached for the dagger that he had hidden behind his belt and cut the ropes that held the weights. They snapped lose and sank down with such a speed that they were gone in mere seconds. Freed of the weights, Aragorn stopped sinking and stayed stationary.

Legolas pushed them upwards again until they were under the balloon. There was a small bubble of air, just big enough for two persons. A second later their heads burst through the surface of the water. Sweet air greeted them and Legolas took a deep breath. His lungs ached and he coughed a few times to calm them. Aragorn did not cough. Neither did he fill his lungs with the precious air. He lay limp in the water, his head resting on Legolas's shoulder.

"Estel? Can you hear me?" Legolas cradled Aragorn in his arms as best he could, trying to keep them both above water. Aragorn's skin was white as snow, and his lips had taken on a bluish tint. Reaching around, Legolas opened the knot of the gag. A small trickle of blood ran from the corner of Aragorn's mouth where the cloth had cut into his skin. "Estel? Please!"

Agonized, Legolas cupped Aragorn's face with his hands. "Don't do this to me, Estel." He pleaded, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Without thinking, he pressed his lips against Aragorn's, breathing air into the other's lungs. Legolas knew not what he was doing or even why he did it, but the urge to do this was strong in him. Aragorn's lips were cold against his, and so very still. It was as if he was kissing a corpse, and Legolas shuddered.

Suddenly, Aragorn coughed, weak and dry. Another cough ripped through his body, before he sucked in a deep breath. Apparently, the gag had prevented him from swallowing any water, and his lungs were clear but starving for air. Wheezing, Aragorn slowly opened his eyes. He blinked to clear them, but when he focused on Legolas's face, they became bright and clear.

"Legolas", he breathed, his teeth chattering with the cold.

"Oh Estel!" Legolas wrapped his arms around his lover and held him tightly. "I was so afraid. Never do this to me again, Estel. I thought I had lost you." While he spoke, Legolas bestowed warm kissed to Aragorn's face and neck, hating to lose the contact. But before long, he pulled away and looked at Aragorn's face. The young human was pale as a ghost and his lips were still blue. His teeth chattered horribly, while his whole body was rigid as stone. While Legolas watched, the young man's eyes blinked slowly and closed.

"No! Estel, keep your eyes open. You must not sleep now." Legolas implored, shaking Aragorn gently. Aragorn mumbled something under his breath that Legolas could not understand. He opened his eyes and searched for Legolas's face. "Legolas, I…I'm s-so tired."

"I know, love." Reaching out, Legolas pressed Aragorn tighter against his body. "But please stay awake." He felt the young man nod weakly against his shoulder, but Legolas knew that it was only a matter of moments before Aragorn would fall unconscious. The water was too cold for a human body; it could not cope. Pressing a warm kiss to Aragorn's forehead, Legolas pushed with his legs and tried to propel them upwards. But instead of swimming upwards, he only collided with the ceiling of the balloon construction. It was impossible to move the balloon from inside. Legolas cursed under his breath. He would have to pull at the balloon from the outside.

His eyes shone with determination when he stroked Aragorn's cheek to get his attention. The young man glanced at him with bright eyes. "Estel, I will get us out of here, I promise." Legolas placed another warm kiss to Aragorn's chilled lips, hoping to revive the man a little. "But I will have to leave you now, so that I can pull the balloon upwards. Can you hold on for a little while longer, melethron (lover)?"

Aragorn nodded weakly, but his eyes drooped. It was clear that he was at the end of his rope. The cold water robbed him of his strength. Taking a deep breath, he struggled to focus on his friend's face, "I c-can s-swim." He managed through shattering teeth, drawing a grimaced smile from Legolas. Before Legolas could answer, though, Aragorn rolled his shoulders weakly. He winced in pain and sank a few inches deeper into the water. Had it not been for Legolas, he would have gone under. "L-legolas, c-cut the b-bonds so t-that I c-c-can swim."

For a split second Legolas was confused. And then hot anger bubbled up inside of him. It was only now, when Aragorn had said it, that he noticed and remembered that the men had bound Aragorn's arms behind his back. They had not bothered to cut the bonds before they had thrown him into the icy waters. "Oh dearest!" Legolas moaned, then reached out quickly and cut the bonds around Aragorn's wrists. The rope fell away and Aragorn hissed, pressing his face against Legolas's shoulder. His dark hair veiled his face, but Legolas could feel the tremors that ran through his slender body.

"I'm sorry, Estel." Legolas murmured and wrapped his arms tightly around his friend while he held him. Aragorn's arms had been bound behind his back for four days. Freed now, the muscles cramped and protested, shooting stabs of pain down from his shoulders to his arms right and right to his fingertips. After a few moments, the tremors subsided and Aragorn slowly pulled his arms forwards. He grimaced against the pain, but he kept his arms moving. The pain cleared his head and repressed the numbness. Pain was good, pain was keeping him awake. His breath came in harsh gasps, the only sound besides the splashing of water in the small space.

While Aragorn struggled with the pain, Legolas rubbed his hands in soothing circles on his back. He knew not if Aragorn could even feel the gesture, but it calmed Legolas to do something. It felt incredibly good to have Aragorn in his arms again, to feel the man's breath on his skin and the beating of his strong heart. Oh, the last four days had been the longest in Legolas's life. He never wanted to let go of his young lover. But alas, he knew that he had to, and soon.

While his elven body was less susceptible to the cold than Aragorn's, even he could feel the numbness slowly spread throughout his body. His toes prickled and hurt, as did his fingers. Already his breathing was quicker than was normal, for the water pressed against his body, forcing his heart to pump his blood faster through his body. They needed to get to the surface as quickly as possible.

Sighing under his breath, Legolas moved his hands up Aragorn's back towards his neck. His mouth at Aragorn's ear, he whispered, "I love you, Estel."

Aragorn took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around Legolas's slender form and hugged him close in response. The archer knew how much that must hurt his injured friend, and he pressed his lips against Aragorn's cheek. "I will get us out of the water, Estel."

"I know." Aragorn buried his face in Legolas's wet hair and took aother deep breath. He trembled from the cold, but his breath was warm against Legolas's skin, "I love you too, Legolas. Please don't forget that." Warm lips touched Legolas's skin, and the elf felt his heartbeat speed up. Had he heard more in Aragorn's words than the man had said? A hidden goodbye? Legolas did not want to think of that, denied the possibility that Aragorn would die ere they reached the surface. So, he pressed Aragorn against him once more, before he let go.

Their eyes met, and there was no need for words. They both knew the chances were slim that Legolas was able to pull the construction towards the surface; the chances that Aragorn's frozen body would hold on that long were even slimmer. But they were defying the odds. Their lips met in a sweet kiss, strong and harsh but lovely and tender at the same time. Both tried to give and receive love, and when they broke, they smiled at each other. For one more time Legolas caressed Aragorn's cheek with the back of his fingers, before he resolutely turned and ducked his head under the surface of the water. When he pulled his fingers around the ropes and started to pull the construction upwards, he could not shake the feeling that their kiss had felt as if it was the last.

Legolas knew that he would not make it. It was impossible to pull the construction upwards; it was too heavy, too sodden with water. And, Legolas had to admit, he was too cold and too tired. His muscled would not work as they should. Maybe he could grab Aragorn and try to swim with him towards the surface. But would his young lover be strong enough for that? Could he hold his breath that long? Legolas was desperate. He pulled at the construction, but it would not move as he wanted it to. It was over, and Legolas knew it. It pained him incredibly to be so helpless. He had promised Aragorn that he would save him!

Accepting defeat was not an easy thing. For another moment, Legolas stayed where he was, shocked and pained. Then, he slowly made his way downwards. He had almost reached the underside, when there was suddenly a strong pull at the rope he held. He was so surprised that he let go. Only to grab the rope again a second later in panic. There was another strong pull; the construction slowly floated upwards. Glancing around in the near complete darkness, Legolas saw that all the ropes were stretched tight now. He had not noticed it before, but there was a strong rope – no, it was a metal chain – attached to the top of the construction. He followed the chain with his eyes…it led to the surface and slowly pulled the balloon upwards.

And then it hit Legolas. The men must have attached the chain to the balloon to be able to pull it upwards again. The balloon and the hoard of Smaug. Legolas knew not whether he should feel sick or grateful. Deciding that it did not really matter, he quickly swam towards the underside of the balloon and ducked inside. Snorting, Legolas took a few deep breaths and filled his starving lungs with air. Aragorn reached out to him with shaking fingers, and held him close so that he would not go down again.

When Legolas saw his friend and lover, he winced inwardly with fear. Aragorn was even paler than before, and dark circles had formed under his eyes. Where his lips had been bluish before, they were now almost devoid of color. Small blue arteries could be seen under his skin, which was almost translucent. But what scared Legolas more than the lack of color in his cheeks or lips, was the fact that Aragorn had stopped trembling from the cold. His body was still in the water, and only small ripples splashed around him. Legolas was no healer, but he knew that people who suffered from the cold were one step closer to succumbing when they stopped trembling. It meant that their body had surrendered and stopped fighting to warm itself.

Legolas automatically intertwined his fingers with Aragorn's. Valar, was his lover's skin cold! Wrapping his other arm around his lover's waist, Legolas pulled him closer towards his own body. Around them, the construction was slowly pulled upwards, and they tried to swim with it, so as not to lose the precious bubble of air. But although neither Legolas nor Aragorn moved much, the bubble of air became smaller and smaller. The pull on the construction and the current of the lake jostled the balloon from side to side and the air bubbled away in little silver pearls. Already the water reached up to their chins, and they knew that it was only a matter of minutes before the air would not be enough for the both of them.

There was no need for words, and so they simply held each other while they waited for the inevitable moment that one of them would have to leave the other. There was no doubt in both of their minds that it would have to be Legolas who left the construction to swim to the surface. His elven body would protect him and his lungs could hold more air, even in the cold water. But even if they both managed to reach the surface, what then? They would break the surface in the middle of the platform, with Madoc and the rest of the crazy men waiting for them. They were unarmed, except the two small daggers that Legolas carried. Aragorn was frozen to the core; it would be a miracle of he could so much as stand on his own. He would not be able to fight. And Legolas would not leave his side to save himself.

For a moment Legolas thought about leaving the safe balloon with Aragorn when they neared the surface. They could reach the surface somewhere close to the platform and then try to swim to safety. The men, with their limited eyesight and the storm howling around them, would probably never see them in the water. But Legolas discarded the thought. Aragorn was in no shape to swim far. If the man did not reach the platform soon, he would drown after all.

Legolas sighed and pressed his cheek against Aragorn's, resting his chin against the young man's shoulder. He knew not what to do, but he would do whatever was necessary to survive this night. In response, Aragorn tightened his hold on the elf. His breath was soft and ragged on Legolas's skin, and fear ate away at Legolas's heart. Fear that Aragorn would not make it, that his frail human body would succumb to the cold that crushed them.

It took the four men far longer to haul the construction up the surface of the lake than it had taken it to sink down into the lake. When Legolas saw a yellow shimmer through the water and felt the thunder even through the waves, he hugged Aragorn close. They both had to stretch their necks to be able to breathe. "We are almost to the surface."Aragorn nodded against his shoulder, his eyes serious. "I will leave you now, Estel, but I won't be far." Legolas cradled Aragorn's pale face in his hands, "Keep hope, my love. We will survive this night."

Despite his frozen skin, Aragorn quirked a smile at Legolas, "I know, Legolas." Aragorn sealed their lips in a longing kiss, caressing Legolas's ear with his fingertips. "Don't let them catch you, Legolas. I could not bear it." Aragorn locked their eyes, and Legolas saw the love and devotion shimmer in the grey depth. He had to swallow the lump in his throat. Kissing Aragorn one last time with all the love he could give, Legolas took a deep breath and ducked under water. The silence that met his ears was deafening. For a moment, he stayed where he was and watched as the balloon was pulled upwards. Then, he pushed himself forwards and away.

Aragorn felt the cold crush his bones, but to his surprise, the pain had vanished. Deep inside he knew that this was a bad sign, but his mind seemed to have fallen asleep. His thoughts were sluggish, and he could not concentrate for more than a few minutes at a time. He could still feel Legolas's warm lips against his, although his friend was long gone. Aragorn hoped that Legolas would heed his words and not let himself be caught by those misguided men. He was sure that they would take his survival as a sign. They would not hesitate to send Legolas down into the lake once more to find the treasure of the dragon.

Slowly, the balloon moved upwards and Aragorn struggled to keep afloat. The air was thick now and burned in his lungs. Not that there was much air left. Aragorn could barely keep his nose and mouth above water. Suddenly, there was a wet sucking sound, then the balloon above him crumbled. Aragorn was pushed under, swallowing water. His lungs hurt from the cold invasion and he coughed; which caused only more water to enter his lungs. And then the balloon was pulled upwards again and Aragorn's head broke the surface. Sweet air filled his lungs; coughing and sputtering, he grabbed at the wooden planks of the platform.

There were sounds around him, shouts and yells, but the most prominent sound was the angry hiss and howl of the storm. Rain pelted down on his back while he hung there, catching his breath. The rain felt warm on his skin, and Aragorn sighed in relief. He was back at the platform, saved. At least for the moment.

Barely had this thought flittered across his mind that strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him out of the water. The edge of the wood scraped along his belly and legs, but he did not care. The air outside of the water felt warm, almost hot on his skin. And the wind felt so wonderfully fresh, full of life. Aragorn inhaled deeply, and coughed immediately, water spilling from his lungs. The voices around him rose in volume, but he could not make out the words. And he did not care to try. At least not at the moment. Had Legolas made it back to the platform? And if he had, where was he?

Suddenly, something hard connected with his side, and Aragorn grunted in pain. He was kicked again, harder this time, and the force of the kick sent him rolling onto his back. Rain pattered onto his face and he blinked his eyes open. The first he saw was the green sky. Dozens of lightning bolts crisscrossed it; it was a magnificent spectacle. And then another boot kicked him, causing Aragorn to hiss in pain as one of his ribs protested the harsh movement with an almost audible snapping sound.

Blinking against the rain, Aragorn glared up at the faces around him. He could see Madoc and Willie, but not the other two. Willie grinned down at him, his teeth flashing. There was no doubt in Aragorn's mind that it had been him who had kicked him. If he ever got the chance, he would return the sentiment. His breathing still ragged, Aragorn tried to get to his elbows. His arms trembled and would not support his weight; with a weak grunt he collapsed back onto his back.

Madoc grinned down at him, "He lives." It was all he said, but he shot Willie a meaningful look. Then he turned and gestured at someone Aragorn could not see. "Rory! Nibs! Get the construction ready again. We will try once more."

Willie none to gently nudged Aragorn with the toe of his boot, "With him? He is more dead than alive, and the elf is gone."

From somewhere close, Aragorn heard Madoc's reply, "A shame the elf did not make it. But if he survived the first time, he will the second time, too. Now get him over here."

Without warning, Willie grabbed Aragorn by his leg and began to drag him over to the construction. Too cold and weak to fight, Aragorn suffered to be pulled over the wildly bucking platform to the other side of the square opening. As soon as he lay still, Rory and Nibs began to once more fasten ropes around his waist. Angered at his own weakness, Aragorn tried to resist. He slapped at the hands that touched him and managed to get to his knees. Only to have Willie kick him once more. The vicious kick sent him crashing to the ground, and Aragorn yelped with pain when he landed on his right wrist. Pain shot through his arm right up to his shoulder.

Before he could get up again, a knee pressed against his back and held him down. "Don't you dare moving, ranger." Willie growled, pressing down harder. Someone Aragorn could not see grabbed his arms and yanked them around and above his head. Cold metal touched his wrists, and he was once more bound; unable to move or fight. Looking, Aragorn saw that his hands had been bound with metal chains instead of rope. Maybe he could knock Willie out with them if he got the chance, he thought darkly.

The pressure on his back vanished, and Aragorn coughed weakly. His chest hurt, and he knew that at least one of his ribs was broken. Lying still, he felt warm hands on him, securing him to the construction. Even knowing what to expect, Aragorn knew that he would not survive another dive into the water. His body was too cold, his muscles too stiff. His body tried valiantly too warm him, for he shivered and trembled again, but it would not be enough to warm him should he be forced into the icy waters for another time. It would kill him.

Where was Legolas? Trying to be unsuspicious, Aragorn glanced around. He could see the ship the man had used to come here, some crates and barrels, but no Legolas. Had his friend made it to the platform? Surely Legolas had not been pulled away by the high waves? Suddenly afraid for his lover, Aragorn twisted his body to the side to look behind him…only to receive another well placed kick to his back from Willie. Grunting with pain, Aragorn lay still. Legolas had made it, he was sure. If he could only see him…

On the other side of the platform, Legolas watched with mounting fury as Willie kicked Aragorn again. Seeing Aragorn's struggles cease, Legolas felt a red haze cloud his vision. Slowly, he pulled himself along the platform towards the big ship. His wet clothing was dark in the night, and Legolas hoped that he would stay undetected for a while longer. He knew not exactly what he would do, but a rough plan had formed in his mind. There was a small dinghy secured to the ship, and Legolas wanted to try and steal it. He would grab Aragorn, race to the small boat and row away as quickly as he could. That was the plan, and Legolas hoped that it would work out.

When he was close to one of the corners of the platform, on the other side from where Aragorn and the men where, Legolas slowly pulled himself from the seething waters. He landed cat like on the wooden planks, the dripping of water from his clothing the only sound he made. For a moment he stayed absolutely still, waiting to see if he had been detected. But none of the men looked in his direction; Willie had his foot pressed against Aragorn's back to keep him motionless, Nibs and Rory were busy with the construction and Madoc glanced out at those waters as if he could see the diamonds and golden coins of the treasure under the surface.

Pushing his luck, Legolas moved towards one of the small oil lamps the men had ignited. The wind lashed the rain against his face and it stung like tiny glass shards. Blinking against the onslaught, Legolas reached out and took the wildly swinging lamp down from the hook. He kept the lamp aloft so as not to alert the four men and then slowly opened the glass container that held the oil. With slow movements he unscrewed the container and removed it from the lamp. Unprotected by the thick glass, the flame was nearly blown out by the howling wind. As slowly as he could, Legolas poured the oil down onto the wooden planks. The wood was wet already, and the oil quickly flowed in all directions.

For a moment Legolas felt a pang of fear; what if the oil reached Aragorn? His young lover was lying flat on his stomach on the platform, helpless. But there was no time for second thoughts now. Returning the sputtering flame into the glass container, Legolas hung it back on its hook, hoping that he had left enough oil to keep the flame alive a bit longer. When that was done, he crouched down and moved over to the next lamp. Dumping the contents of the second oil lamp onto the planks and returning the lamp to its hook, Legolas hesitated for a moment, unsure how to proceed.

His eyes sought out Aragorn. Legolas had to bite down on his lip at the sight that greeted him. Aragorn had been dragged closer to the square opening in the platform; from the looks of it the men were almost finished with strapping the construction back to Aragorn's body. The wet balloon bloated out in the wind behind him. Aragorn self was lying on his back now, with Willie standing above him, his boot on Aragorn's chest. Even from the distance Legolas could see that Aragorn was trembling terribly, his chest rising and falling is strangled gasps. His dark hair clung in wet strands to his face, contrasting starkly against the paleness of his skin.

While Legolas watched, Willie leaned down and said something to Aragorn that made the young man glare at the kidnapper. But Willie only laughed and pressed his boot down, causing Aragorn to flinch in pain. Fury welled up inside of Legolas and all hesitation evaporated. With a fuming snarl leaving his lips, he grabbed the oil lamp he had just returned to its hook. He raised it with both hands above his head, then smashed it to the ground with as much force as he could muster.

The lamp shattered on the ground, the sound lost in the howling wind. The flame flickered for a second, threatening to die. For a tiny, infinitesimal moment Legolas felt his heart stutter as he watched the flame die. And then the wind lashed at the platform. It whooshed under the flame, took it up, fuelled it like a lover, cradled it, before it let it go. With an angry hiss the flame sank down onto the oil that covered the platform. In the spilt of a second the tiny flame grew to a mountain of fire. It sizzled away in all directions, emitting sparks into the dark air. In mere moments, the whole platform was on fire. A dark smile spread on Legolas's face.

"FIRE!" Nibs yelled and the fear was unmistakable in his voice. "FIRE!" Panicked, the red haired ran towards the ship to save himself. Rory, shocked to see the flames that licked at the wood, quickly followed him. But Willie and Madoc were not so easily diverted. In moments they spotted Legolas in the shadows; Willie yanked Aragorn to his feet, using him as a shield, while Madoc drew the long knife that hung at his belt. Madoc's and Legolas's eyes met across the flames, and they both knew that neither would leave without a fight.

Slowly, Legolas made his way across the burning platform. The fire licked at his boots and trousers, but he was so sodden with water that the fire found no hold. The rain that shot down from the skies sizzled in the hot oil and thick black smoke quickly shrouded the entire platform. Legolas could hear Aragorn cough, although he could no longer see him clearly due to the smoke.

Drawing his own dagger, Legolas crouched low, ready to spring above the hole in the platform. He would not let these men escape with Aragorn. Again. He narrowed his eyes against the burning smoke, tensed his muscles and sprang. Turning cat like in the air, he landed with a soft thud directly between Willie and Madoc. His dagger swiftly cut through the air in a wild arc. Madoc howled in pain, cradling his arm against his chest. Bright red blood welled up from a deep cut in his forearm. In the same movement, Legolas turned to attack Willie.

He stopped short when his eyes fell on the knife that pressed against Aragorn's exposed neck. A small rivulet of blood trickled down Aragorn's skin from a shallow cut to his chin. A growl left Legolas's lips and he crouched, ready to attack. From the corner of his eye he saw that Madoc bent down to pick up his knife. He never finished the move. With a quick swipe of his foot, Legolas kicked the knife into the seething waters. He shot a smug look at Madoc before he refocused on Willie. That man was really irritating him and it was time to stop that.

Gripping his dagger more tightly, Legolas took a step towards Willie and Aragorn. His voice was barely more than a hiss, but it was clearly audible over the raging storm. "Let go of him, now, or you will regret it."

Willie tightened his hold on Aragorn and the knife, "If you want him, come and get him." The man moved backwards towards the waiting ship. By now, the fire had spread to the wooden poles that stood in the middle of the platform. Once the fire was done, there would be nothing left of the platform. A few feet away, the balloon stood in bright flames; Legolas was very grateful that the men had not yet strapped it onto Aragorn. Peering through the thick smoke, Legolas took another step forwards. Willie retreated, taking a bound Aragorn with him.

Another snarl left Legolas's lips, but he knew that he would not dare attack while that man held a knife to his lover's neck. One slip and Aragorn would bleed to death while the world burned around them. Frustrated, Legolas racked his mind for a way out. It was so easy that he nearly laughed aloud when his mind presented him with the answer. Madoc.

Fast as only an elf could be, Legolas spun on his heel and darted towards the older man. Surprised, Madoc could only stare as Legolas knocked his fist into his yaw. The hit downed him, but before Madoc could struggle to his feet, Legolas grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up. Mirroring Willie, he pressed his sharp dagger at Madoc's bearded chin.

Glaring at Willie, Legolas raised his chin challengingly, "Your move." But daring his move might seem, Legolas was trembling inside. He was bartering high, and he knew not if his game would win out in the end. Was Madoc that important to Willie? Would Willie regard Madoc's life worth enough to lose this standoff? Legolas could only keep his charade and hope that he had not miscalculated.

The gnashing of Willie's teeth was audible even through the howling wind, causing Legolas to grin maliciously. He had not miscalculated. Smiling wickedly, he purred at Willie, "If you want him, come and get him."

"Argh!" Willie growled, his face turning bright red. It was obvious that he was not often thwarted. The hand that held the knife to Aragorn's throat began to tremble with the tension that built in Willie's body. Legolas hoped that the man could restrain himself before he lost control. Slowly, Legolas advanced two steps, holding Madoc like a shield before him. "We will do this the traditional way. You let go of the ranger the same moment I let go of him." Legolas nodded his chin at Madoc. He could feel the anger that pulsed through the man's veins, and it made his smile widen. "Both will walk to the other – slowly – and then….we'll see."

Willie's eyes flickered to Madoc, and it was clear that he knew not what to do. Madoc grit his teeth, but when Legolas pressed the dagger a bit deeper, he nodded his head in acquiescence. "Good." Legolas loosened his hold on Madoc. After a moment, Willie followed suit and slowly removed the knife from Aragorn's neck. Grey eyes met steel blue over the burning platform. Aragorn was swaying on his feet, but holding on despite the cold and pain that coursed through his whole body. Legolas nodded minutely and shot Aragorn a reassuring smile. Then, he pushed Madoc away from him.

The next seconds were very unreal. Aragorn and Madoc walked slowly towards each other, both of them never looking back, but neither loosing eye contact with the other. It was obvious that they both expected the other to do something stupid. When they reached each other, they glared and Madoc mumbled a threat under his breath, but they continued on their way, unhindered. Around them, the wind howled with a vengeance; lighting struck a dozen times a minute, while thunder boomed across the sky. Thick smoke filled the air and glowing sparks rained down on the seething waters. But Aragorn reached Legolas's side safely.

As soon as Aragorn was near enough, Legolas wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close; he held him as much as he supported his weight. On the other side of the platform, Madoc scowled at Legolas and Aragorn, but his scowl was quickly turning into a hate filled mask. "You destroyed everything!" He shouted, shrouded in smoke. "Everything we worked years for to accomplish!" His voice became shrill and threatened to brake. He shook his fists at them in a helpless fit of rage.

"That was his doing alone." Legolas said softly, so that only Aragorn could hear. He would not rise to Madoc's bait. Suddenly, the flames rose higher, fuelled by the wind, and for a moment Willie and Madoc vanished from sight. Coughing, Aragorn turned his face into Legolas's shoulder. When the air cleared enough for them to see, Willie was already on board of the ship, with Madoc close on his heels. They threw the gangway down into the waters, then unrolled the big sail. While the ship bucked on the waves and Rory, Nibs and Willie struggled to set sail in the raging storm, Madoc leaned over the railing. His face was white with fury, "You have destroyed everything and I will destroy you for your folly! You will die out here! You hear me, DIE!" His voice broke and a moment later the wind caught the sail and the ship shot away into the darkness.

Aragorn and Legolas watched as the ship vanished in the high waves, taking the small dinghy that Legolas had staked his escape plan on with it. They were left behind on a burning platform, with a monstrous storm raging all around them, and no help in sight. It was too far to swim to the shore. They were doomed.

Instinctively, Legolas tightened his hold on Aragorn. The young man leaned his weight on him, exhausted, tired and hurting from the kicks Willie had dedalt him. His voice was scratchy when he asked, "What are we going to do now? Swim to Esgaroth?" Legolas could hear that Aragorn knew that they would never make it back to the town, not with the storm shaking the waters.

Legolas knew not what to answer, for he knew not what to do. Glancing around, he saw the flames and the raging waters, and he felt a cold hand grip his heart. They had only minutes to decide, for the flames were so near now that they almost licked at their feet. Next to him, Aragorn shivered from the cold, pressing his body against Legolas's, seeking the little warmth that his elven body emitted. Glancing down, Legolas felt his already beaten heart constrict even further. Maybe he would make it back to town, his body was strong. But Aragorn would not make it. His human body would succumb to the cold ere they had even swam half of the way. If he found no solution, then Aragorn would surely die.

A gust of hot smoke made them both cough, and Legolas knew that they had to leave the platform. At the thought of springing into the icy waters, his hands tightened on Aragorn. The thought of loosing Aragorn was making him tremble with fear. At a sudden insight, he loosened his belt and knotted it with Aragorn's. At least now, the waves would not part them. The fate of the one was the fate of the other. Aragorn watched as Legolas looped his leather belt around his waist. "Legolas, don't…." It was clear that he wanted Legolas to stop; he knew that he had not the strength to outlast this storm, and he would not accept that Legolas sacrificed his life for him. But Legolas silenced him with a quick kiss, "I would not be parted from you, not even in….now even now."

In an attempt to change Legolas's mind, a last attempt to save his friend and lover, Aragorn lifted his bound hands, "I cannot swim, Legolas. I will only pull you down."

For a moment, Legolas was hesitant, staring at the iron chains that bound Aragorn's wrists. An old lock held the chain closed. His long fingers stroked over the chains, as if he could make them vanish. But then his eyes became hard and he shook his head, "That doesn't matter. I will swim for you. Just concentrate on staying afloat."

Seeing that he would not be able to sway his friend's mind, Aragorn nodded. If he was completely honest with himself, he was glad that he would not be alone when he met his fate. He was only sad that Legolas would have to watch him die. Legolas finished his knot, and then embraced Aragorn tightly. "We will not die tonight, Estel." His blue eyes locked on Aragorn's grey, and their lips met in a soft kiss. Both knew that it was maybe the last they would ever share. And then the flames reached them, and they jumped into the seething waters.

The chill of the water robbed Aragorn of his breath; his lungs constricted and burned immediately, while his whole body seemed to be paralyzed. Had it not been for Legolas's strong arms, he would have sunk to the ground like a stone. Instead, Legolas pulled him to the surface. Spitting out a mouthful of water, Aragorn forced his legs to move. He had to stay above the water for as long as possible. His eyes found Legolas's and he nodded his head. He would fight for as long as he had the strength.

Legolas looked around in the darkness to get his bearings and to decide in which direction was Esgaroth. The current was slowly pulling them away from the still burning platform. Legolas finally decided, "We will not be able to fight the current." He shouted above the storm. "We should swim with it." Aragorn nodded, but the movement disturbed his balance. Before he knew it, his head sank under the waves and he swallowed icy water. Coming up, he coughed weakly. A huge wave suddenly splashed in his face, and he swallowed another mouthful. He coughed, feeling his lungs burn.

"Estel, swim!" Legolas shouted, pulling at his arms. Aragorn did as he was told. He moved his legs and arms, trying to stay afloat, while Legolas and the current slowly pulled him away from the burning platform and into the darkness. Soon, the burning platform was nothing but a bright speck in the darkness, and after a few more minutes Aragorn found himself surrounded by complete darkness. The continuing lightning was the only source of light, and it made his world eerie.

Aragorn struggled through the waters. The iron chain around his wrists made swimming almost impossible; it continuingly dragged his hands downwards, and his shoulders hurt from the strain of keeping his arms moving. The wind blew the rain straight into his face, making his eyes sting. Wave upon wave crashed down upon him, and the wind changed direction so often that it was impossible for Aragorn to anticipate the next wave. They dunked him under water, they threw him to the side and they shoved him away from Legolas. It was a constant fight to stay above water, and his legs cramped from the exertion.

But what was worse than the wind, the rain and the waves, was the cold. The chill of the water claimed his body quicker than he had thought possible. Already he could feel his strength fail. The cold sucked the strength out of his muscles, leaving him drained and weak. Soon, Aragorn knew, he would have no strength left. Not even Legolas would be able to keep him from drowning then. The human body was just not made for such cold temperatures; it would collapse sooner or later, no matter how strong the mind.

Another wave crashed upon his back, and Aragorn felt his head sink under the water. He paddled with his legs and pushed upwards. His lungs burned and his chest constricted. There was a pull at his waist, and a moment later he broke the surface. Coughing and spitting water, Aragorn looked around for Legolas. His golden hair bobbed on the waves somewhere to his right. Taking a deep breath, Aragorn began to swim in that direction. He would not give up.

Soon, his world consisted of nothing more but cold water and the fight to breathe. How long had they been in the water? Fifteen minutes? Thirty? An hour? Aragorn could not tell, for he had lost all feeling of time. He was cold and exhausted, and in his muddled brain was little space for such complex thoughts. Instead, he was repeating the same words over and over, like a mantra. 'Swim, breathe, follow Legolas. Swim, breathe, follow Legolas'. It kept him going, kept him above the water when the waves pushed him down. But every time a wave washed over him, it was harder to get to the surface. Harder to take another breath. Harder to follow his mantra. His body was tired, and it was only a matter of minutes ere it would fail him.

A vivid bolt of lightning struck the sky, zigzagging across the dark clouds, before it speared the lake. In the second of brilliant light that followed, Aragorn saw Legolas's head in front of him. His friend was determinedly swimming towards the shore, pulling him along behind him. Aragorn felt the constant strain of their knotted belts like a lifeline. What would Legolas do when he, Aragorn, failed? Would he cut him loose and swim on to the shore? Or would he hold his body and die with him? Tears of despair gathered in Aragorn's eyes. This was not right. Nothing of this should have happened.

Another bolt of lightning struck. It was so close, that Aragorn meant to feel the heat of the bolt on his skin. But that could not be, for his skin was so cold that he felt nothing anymore. Not the gushing wind or the icy rain. He was numb. A wave hit him right in the face, making him turn his head and cough weakly. The motion broke his rhythm and balance, and Aragorn felt his body sink. He struggled weakly, pushing his legs and reaching upwards with his arms. But instead of reaching the surface, he sank deeper. It was surprisingly quiet under water; the waves that fought him above the surface were calm here, caressing his skin with a warmth that surprised him. For a tiny moment, Aragorn closed his eyes. He was so tired….

Suddenly, a subdued pain shot through his waist and something tugged at his arms. Confused, Aragorn opened his eyes. Around him was only darkness, he was still under water. The tugging came again, and Aragorn suddenly felt the pain in his lungs. They were starving, he needed air, he needed to breathe! With sudden clarity, Aragorn realized that he must have been under water for way too long. When had he stopped swimming? He was still confused, his mind unable to comprehend what had happened, when a strong hand gripped him by the elbow and forcibly pulled him upwards. His head broke the surface and his starving lungs sucked in the cold air. He coughed violently and his whole body shook from the strain.

"Estel? Estel, oh thank the Valar." Legolas worried voice reached his ears, strangely muffled. His lover's strong arms wound around his waist, holding him on his back and pressed against Legolas's chest. Had it not been for Legolas's strong arms, Aragorn would have sunk immediately. He was so tired that his eyes closed of their own accord. Legolas shook his shoulder, calling into his ears, "No, stay awake Estel. Open your eyes!" Aragorn did as he was told, but he knew that he was fighting a lost battle. His mind was strong, but his body betrayed him. But he would do as Legolas said for as long as he could. "'m wake." He mumbled, his lips too frozen to cooperate.

"Rest a while, Estel. I will hold you." Legolas's voice was strained, quivering a little from the cold and worry. The elf tightened his hold on him, hugging him closer to his chest. With Legolas swimming on his back, Aragorn felt himself float. For a moment, he allowed his eyes to close, but the temptation to sleep was so strong that he forced them open again. He must not sleep. Sleep meant death. His own and Legolas's. They swam like that for a few minutes, bobbing on the waves like flotsam. The storm slowly exhausted itself, and the number of lighting gradually diminished.

Lying on his back, Aragorn stared straight ahead into the dark clouds. The lighting had caused green spots to dance in his vision, but he did not care. Not anymore. He was not cold any longer, just numb. The water around him almost felt warm on his skin. He knew it was a bad sign, a very bad sign. But what could he do? Another bolt of lightning shot down from the sky, illuminating the black lake. Aragorn followed its path with his eyes. When the bolt hit the water, it brightened for a second, and then complete darkness surrounded him once more.

But Aragorn frowned. He blinked his eyes to get rid of the green spots and stared into the direction where the bolt had hit the surface, not so very far from their current position. A strange feeling hit his stomach, as if he had missed a step going down. He was not sure, but…had he seen something in the light? A shape? A ship maybe? Aragorn held his breath and waited for another bold of lightning. It came quickly. He opened his eyes as wide as he could, not wanting to miss anything. The bolt zigzagged down from the clouds, reached the lake and blinded him. A solid mass of green spots danced in Aragorn's vision. But he felt his whole body shake with new hope. He had not been wrong the first time; in the light of the second bolt of lightning he had seen it again. A dark shape that floated on the waves, not that far from where they swam.

"L-Leg-gol-las." Aragorn turned his head, surprised at the effort that little movement cost him. He grabbed for Legolas's arm with his hand, trying to get his attention. His mind was on high alert, and the unresponsiveness of his body irritated him.

"Aye?" Legolas's voice was soft, directly at his ear. It was obvious that his friend was tired, too.

"T-there!" Aragorn tried to point into the direction of the shape, but he could barely lift his arm. Frustrated, he struggled to move. His movements caused Legolas's hold on him to fail, and with a suppressed gurgle Aragorn slid from his friend and into the waters. He managed to break the surface on his own, spitting water. In a flash, Legolas's arms were around him, holding him close. "Estel, what are you doing?" Legolas asked worriedly, a slight hitch of panic in his voice.

Turning, Aragorn stared into Legolas's face. His friend's eyes were dull, probably from the cold, and his golden hair hung in wet strands around his face. There was a shimmer of panic in his eyes, but it was suppressed yet. Locking his grey eyes with the blue he loved so much, Aragorn tried to explain, "I s-saw s-something, Leg-gol-las." His teeth chattered, making speaking difficult.

A frown appeared on Legolas's forehead, and he glanced over Aragorn's shoulder, "A ship?" There was doubt in his voice, and Aragorn could not hold it against him. He shook his head, "No, not a s-ship. S-something smaller. I t-think it-t is another p-platf-form."

"A platform?" Legolas narrowed his eyes and peered into the darkness. In that moment, another bolt of lightning struck, illuminating the lake. Aragorn could tell by the widening of Legolas's eyes that he had seen the platform, too. "A platform!" Legolas repeated his earlier words, making them vibrate with relief. In a quick movement, he grabbed Aragorn by the shoulders and turned him into the direction of the platform. "Of course, how could I forget!" he exclaimed, his voice rising in volume with each word he spoke. "They are all over the lake! We saw them when he entered Lake-town, of course!" There was a hope in Legolas's voice that Aragorn could not feel. The platform seemed to be awfully far away. "Come, Estel, swim."

Legolas gave him a wide smile and tugged at his bound hands. Tired and numb, Aragorn sluggishly moved his arms and legs. When had his feet become that heavy? With every stroke of his arms, he swallowed water, but he was too tired to spit it all out. Legolas swam with wide strokes, pulling him along behind him with a strength that Aragorn envied. His eyelids were heavy as lead and more than once they closed on their own accord. Had it not been for the constant pain in his waist caused by the knotted belts, Aragorn was sure that he would have fallen asleep. But Legolas, his heart filled with hope, pulled him along determinedly.

Aragorn was barely able to keep his nose above the water, when Legolas's exited shout reached his ears, "We are almost there! Not far now!" Aragorn glanced ahead, but he could see nothing but water and Legolas's golden head. He was not really swimming anymore, but weakly trying not to sink. It was all he could do, for he had lost all feeling in his legs and arms. Why, had he not seen his pale hands under the surface, he would have sworn that he had none. There was a loud thunder booming across the sky, and it drowned out Legolas's exited yell when he finally reached the platform.

There as a strong pull at his waist, and Aragorn felt himself glide through the water. Blinking against the red dots that swam in his vision, Aragorn saw that Legolas was bobbing stationary at some dark shape. The next pull at his waist brought him close enough for Legolas to reach for him. A moment later, he rested in Legolas's arms. Looking around tiredly, Aragorn saw that they had indeed reached another platform. From what he could see, this one was bigger than the other one, much bigger. He was so tired that he could not even feel exited at the thought that they were saved. He rested his head against Legolas's shoulder. When had his head become that heavy? His eyes closed of their own accord.

"Estel! Estel!" Legolas shook him, shouting in his ear, "Wake up!" Aragorn felt his head wobble on his shoulders. His eyelids were so heavy…and why was Legolas shouting at him? It was so nice and warm here, so why was Legolas not letting him sleep? Could his friend not see that he was exhausted? Suddenly, a sharp pain lanced through his cheek. Snapping his eyes open, Aragorn found himself face to face with Legolas. The elf peered into his eyes, his face anxious. "Are you alert?" He asked, his hand still raised to slap him again.

Frowning, Aragorn opened his mouth to answer, but before he brought out as much as a single word, a wave hit them and pushed them against the platform. The wood scraped against his back, and Aragorn automatically reached out to grab the wooden planks. Only that his arms would not cooperate. He could not lift them out of the water. Another wave pushed them against the platform, before the backflow tried to pull them away. "Hold on, Estel, just a moment." Legolas let go of him, reached out for the edge of the platform and pulled himself up. In but a few seconds he kneeled on the platform above Aragorn. "Come, give me your hands Estel."

Strong elvish fingers closed around his wrists and Legolas pulled him out of the water. Aragorn tried to help, but his legs would not really move, and neither did his arms. Legolas had to pull him out of the water and onto the platform all by himself. There Aragorn lay in a heap, wheezing and coughing weakly. His skin stung, but it was not enough pain to rouse him. Valar, he was tired. He was so exhausted and numb that he barely felt Legolas's hands on his skin. "Get up, Estel, come on."

Too weak to protest, Aragorn let himself be pulled to his feet by Legolas. Not that he felt his feet, but from the swaying motion around him, he knew that he must be walking. He could feel the rain on his skin and the wind in his hair, and he wondered where Legolas was taking him. They were safe now, where they not? Out of the water. Surely he could sleep now…

"In here, Estel." Legolas's voice said in his ear, but Aragorn could not comprehend the words. In _where_? It took Aragorn a moment before he noticed that he could no longer feel the rain or the wind. He was lowered to the ground, and he sighed in relief. With tired eyes he glanced around. There were wooden walls around him, and a ceiling. They were in some kind of small shed. He could see some barrels in the corner, a few crates. The owner of this platform must have built this shed for the rainy days. Tired, Aragorn let his eyes close and his head fall back onto the ground. They were saved….

Or were they? Above him, Legolas was deeply worried, slowly working himself into a panic. By the Valar, he thought, even in the dim light Aragorn looked more dead than alive. His skin was so pale and his lips held almost no color. It was obvious that Aragorn's body was undercooled. And the fact that Aragorn was not really registering anything that was going on around him scared Legolas. Almost as much as the fact that Aragorn was not shivering from the cold. Even he, Legolas, was feeling the cold, although it was not affecting him in the way it did a human body. But Legolas knew the first signs of a body being too cold, and he knew that shivering meant that the body was still fighting to stay warm. When the body stopped to shiver, it usually meant that it had given up. Death was then only a few hours away.

Swallowing thickly and feeling his heartbeat accelerate, Legolas kneeled down next to the young man. "Estel, can you hear me? Are you with me?" Aragorn merely grunted something, but did not open his eyes. Legolas began to shake him, "Estel! Speak to me." But to Legolas's horror, Aragorn did not respond at all this time. His head rolled from side to side lifelessly, and there was no movement in his body. "No…" Legolas almost wailed, "Don't do this to me, Estel, please." He shook him harder, trying to wake the young man. But Aragorn stayed still and lifeless.

Frustrated and scared, Legolas raked his hands through his wet hair. He looked around the small shed, his eyes widened with fear. The wind made the wooden planks rattle and creak, but only few bouts of rain sprayed them with the cold water. In a flash of lightning, Legolas's sharp eyes made out the contours of a blanket. With cold fingers he snatched it from one of the boxes. It smelled of fish and mold, but it was reasonably dry. He shook it out and wanted it to wrap around Aragorn, but then he stopped midair.

Aragorn was wet and cold to the bone, his body not responding and lifeless. Just wrapping him in the blanket would not help him to get warm. His body would not produce enough warmth to heat itself. No, Legolas knew that he had to take more drastic measures to keep his young lover alive. So, he flung the blanket to the side and quickly fumbled at the lacings that held Aragorn's tunic closed. With some difficulty he brought he young man into a sitting position, leaning against his chest. He pulled the wet tunic over Aragorn's head, then followed suit with the shirt. It was only then that he remembered the chains that wound around Aragorn's wrists. With an angered yell he cut the shirt and tunic free, then tossed them away. Valar, Aragorn's skin was so cold it made Legolas shiver. Placing the man back on the floor, he removed the sodden boots and then tugged at the breeches. The leather stuck to the skin, but after a few tries the breeches came loose and Legolas flung them away, too.

Legolas wiped his wet forehead and moved back to Aragorn's side. The man lay naked before him, still not responding. His chest was showing dark bruises, and there was a red and angry welt around his waist, from where the rope had pulled at him. The sight of an unclothed Aragorn usually made Legolas blush and his head light, but right now the only thought that raced through his mind was that his young lover must not die. Aragorn meant too much for him to leave this world. Legolas knew he would never forgive himself if Aragorn did not survive this night.

His fingers shook when he opened his own tunic and pulled it over his head. His shirt, boots and breeches followed quickly. Grabbing the blanket, Legolas lay down next to Aragorn and spread the blanket around them both. He pulled the man close to his own body, wrapping his long arms around his torso. Bedding Aragorn's head on his shoulder, Legolas wiped dark locks out of his face, then lay back and stared at the ceiling. His hands rubbed Aragorn's arms up and down, trying to warm him. The body of his young human lover was so cold that Legolas shivered, but he only held him closer. The ghost of a breath on his skin and the dull thud of Aragorn's heartbeat were the only signs that Aragorn was still with him.

Around them, the storm reached its peak; it howled and screeched and whipped at the waves. The platform shook from side to side, bucking like a wild horse, and rain and spray gushed through the opening of the shed. But then, slowly, the number of lightning bolts diminished, the booming thunder died, and the wind quieted down. It was then that Aragorn began to shiver in Legolas's arms. His whole body shook and then trembled. His teeth began to chatter, his fingers to twitch and his legs to trash. Legolas held him even closer then, whispering words of comfort in his ears. A silver tear rolled down his cheek in relief…Aragorn would live. And while the world around them quieted and the dark clouds broke here and there to free the stars and the moon, Legolas held his love, whispering words of love into his ears and watched over him through the night.

To be continued.


	9. 9 In the hands of the enemy

**Hello! Here is the next chapter. Sorry for the long wait! Due to the fact that my life is rather busy at the moment I decided to post shorter chapters. That way, I will be able to update more often and you won't have to wait so long for a new chapter. Happy Holidays everybody!**

Chapter 9: In the hands of the enemy

Morning dawned not bright and sunny, but dull and misty. Although the storm had moved on, dark clouds still veiled the sky, although here and there a tiny bit of blue could be seen. The wind had abated through the night, but it was still strong enough to turn the surface of the Long-lake into a sea of splashing waves. When the first grey light of morning filtered through the planks of the wooden shed, Legolas gently moved from under the sleeping Aragorn, wrapped the man into the blanket and then put on his still wet clothing before he moved outside. Standing on the platform, the glanced around.

In the distance, he could make out the silhouette of Lake-town, but the city was almost lost in the murky mist that hung over the water. A gull cried above him, and Legolas raised his head to watch the bird circle above the waves, looking for food. There were no ships on the lake, but Legolas hoped that the fisherman would sooner or later sail out to check on their platforms. And furthermore, he knew that every storm rattled the fish; the animals would swim to the surface to find air and food. It would be an easy catch for the fisherman. As soon as a ship came close to them, Legolas would somehow hail them towards their position. The ship would bring them back to the town, and then….

For a moment, Legolas felt a wave of hatred wash over him. And then, once they were back in town and he had brought Aragorn to the inn and made sure that a healer had taken a look at him, he would search for the kidnappers. And once he found them, he would make them pay for what they had done to his young friend. He knew that he would have no problem finding the pier where he had boarded the ship last night. Maybe he would inform the town-keepers, and take them with him when he paid a visit to the warehouses that stood at that pier.

Anyhow, those men would not escape his wrath. And when that was done, he would take Aragorn and return to Mirkwood, where his friend could recuperate under the excellent care of the healers. Not that Aragorn would thank him for _that_ consideration. At the thought, his anger left him and a small smile graced his lips. Legolas knew how much Aragorn hated to be in the care of healers. It seemed to be a family trait, for his brothers loathed the healers as well, although they – and Aragorn – were healers themselves.

Relishing in the clean air and the dull morning light for a bit longer, Legolas let his thoughts wander. But after a few minutes, he returned to the small shed. Sitting down next to Aragorn, he looked down at the sleeping man. Where Aragorn's face had lacked all color the previous night, his cheeks were now rosy, his lips of a normal pink. He was still paler than usual, but he did not look like a ghost anymore. Reaching out, Legolas tucked a strand of dark hair behind Aragorn's ear. He let his fingers linger a while longer, caressing his cheek and yaw. Aragorn's skin was warm, maybe a little too warm, but at least it was no longer icy cold.

Suddenly, Aragorn's pale eyelids fluttered. After a moment, the young human slowly opened his eyes, blinking to clear his vision. He looked around for a moment in confusion, before his glance settled on Legolas. The corners of his lips turned up just a fraction and his mouth formed a silent "Legolas". He weakly reached out, and the elf quickly took his hand in his, entwining their fingers.

"Estel, welcome back, my friend." Gazing into Aragorn's grey eyes, Legolas felt his heart beat faster with relief. All would be well now. Without another word, he lay down beside the young man, and spread the blanket above them. For a long moment he simply hugged Aragorn, thanking all the Valar who had watched over them during the night. His young lover was awake, he was alert and he was oh so warm in his arms. Giving Aragorn another tender hug, Legolas placed a kiss on the man's shoulder, before he moved to his neck. He placed kiss after warm kiss on the neck and shoulders, moving slowly to the man's jaw . Slowly, he traced the dark bruise with his lips, his touch so feather-light that it did not hurt. He could feel Aragorn shiver in his arms, pressing closer to him until he was flush against his body. And Legolas turned his head and captured Aragorn's lips with his own.

It was as if someone had lit a bonfire inside his chest, and Legolas relished every second of it. Warmth spread to his head and toes, and it pooled in his lower region, where it burned brightly. Moaning softly, he deepened the kiss, letting his tongue circle Aragorn's lips before it demanded entry. Aragorn let him enter willingly, returning the kiss eagerly. Legolas was well aware of Aragorn's naked body pressed flush against his own, and his hands moved up and down Aragorn's back, before they came to rest on his firm behind. Groaning, Aragorn shifted his weight, causing Legolas to pull him even closer and roll atop of him.

But suddenly, Aragorn broke the kiss, yelping in obvious pain. Startled, Legolas raised himself on his hands and quickly moved off him. The young man rolled to his side, and wrapped his arms around his chest. His face was paler than it had been moments before and he gasped for breath.

"Estel? What is it?" Legolas hovered over Aragorn, unsure what had caused his lover to react that way. Had he inadvertently hurt him? He reached out and pressed his palm against Aragorn's cheek, "I did not want to hurt you, mellon nin. I'm sorry." Slowly, the young man's breathing returned to its normal pace and some color crept back into his cheeks. Aragorn waved his hand in dismissal, but his voice was weak when he spoke, "'tis nothing, Legolas. Just a bruised rib."

"Bruised?" Legolas raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Maybe badly bruised." Aragorn amended, looking slightly sheepish.

"Let me see." Legolas bend down and gently lifted Aragorn's arms from around his chest. The metal chains clinked loudly in the morning air, a constant reminder of what had transpired just hours before. Knowing that he had no other option, Aragorn obliged and moved his arms away, but not before rolling his eyes and sighing softly. He knew that his rib was not merely bruised, but broken, and he knew that Legolas would find that out in but a few moments. But if there was one thing that Aragorn hated, then it was to be mothered by Legolas (or a healer), and he knew Legolas would do exactly _that_ the second he found out about his broken rib.

He clenched his teeth when Legolas's long fingers probed his ribs and barely stifled a groan when his broken rib was jostled. He could hear Legolas snort softly, "Badly bruised, huh? I'd say clearly broken."

"Bruised…broken." Aragorn shrugged his shoulders, "What's the difference? It both hurts."

Legolas glared at his young lover, but instead of answering, he took the blanket and wrapped it tightly around Aragorn's shoulders. He waved a finger at him, "Don't move, Estel. I don't want you to injure yourself."

Aragorn merely sighed, but complied. Legolas was right, after all. It was true that he felt better than he had in days, but that did not mean that he was already on the mend. His whole body hurt, and while the worst of the pain centered in his chest and right wrist, his head also pounded slightly and his throat felt scratchy. Maybe he could at least prevent a cold when he tried to keep warm and preserve his strength. Snuggling deeper under the covers, he turned tired grey orbs at Legolas, "What are we going to do now?"

"We wait until a fisherman finds us and then we return to Lake-town. After then , we'll see." Sitting down close to the entrance to the shed, Legolas crossed his arms around his knees and stared out over the waters. A few gulls cried overhead.

"You are planning to go after these men." It was more a statement than a question.

Without turning around to look at Aragorn, Legolas nodded, "Aye, I am. What they did was despicable and they deserve to be punished."

"But punishment will not remedy the hurt they have caused, Legolas. It will only lead to more pain and suffering, you know that. Exerting revenge serves nothing."

Now, Legolas did turn to look at the young ranger, "They must be stopped, Estel. Otherwise they will abduct more people. Eventually they will kill someone. I cannot sit idly by and do nothing, while I could have prevented that."

"You are right of course, Legolas, forgive me." Aragorn leaned his head back and suppressed a sneeze. "I'm just tired. I wish all of this was over. Or even better, that it had never happened."

Seeing the strain the last days had had on his lover, Legolas reached out and gently pressed his hand against Aragorn's cheek. Blue orbs met grey, "It will be over soon, Estel. And then we will leave Lake-town and with it, all of this behind. You'll see, in a few days, this will be nothing more than a bad dream."

It was almost three hours later when a dingy boat docked at the platform and an elderly, slightly fat man stepped onto the wooden planks. When he saw Legolas and Aragorn, his eyes widened to the size of saucers. Before the man could do something stupid, Legolas explained to him that their boat had sunk in the storm and that they had barely escaped with their lives. In the end, the fisherman believed them (although he was rather taken aback by the heavy manacles that wound around Aragorn's wrists). They boarded the battered boat and within minutes, they were on their way back to the city of Lake-town.

Getting back to the inn formed more of a problem. Because Legolas had cut away his tunic and shirt the other night, Aragorn wore nothing than his breeches and boots. His tall frame was wrapped in the moldy blanket, and he shivered in the crisp air. It seemed that the storm had blown away all the warmth of the previous days. Shivering in the cold wind, Aragorn tried his best to hide the manacles around his wrist, but just as the fisherman had seen them, the passersby stared at him with wide eyes and gave him a wide berth. In the end, Legolas practically high jacked a small donkey-pulled cart by jumping onto its bed and refusing to go before the owner of the cart had brought them to the inn. Muttering about crazy elves, the man – in the end – obliged.

Once back in the inn, Legolas practically carried Aragorn up the stairs towards their room, where the young man exhaustedly flopped down on the creaking bed. He shivered in the chill air and sighed heavily. Soon, Legolas had a fire going in the hearth, and ordered some wine and warm broth. Then, he helped Aragorn out off the still clammy breeches and wrapped him in warm blankets. He sat down on the side of the bed, looking down at his pale lover, while he waited for the wine and food to arrive.

Aragorn was lying on his side, unconsciously cradling his aching arm and throbbing ribs. Even the short trip back to the inn had exhausted him, and he was barely able to keep his eyelids from falling shut. Smiling tiredly up at Legolas, he reached out and entwined his fingers with the elf's. "You were right after all, Legolas. We are back in the inn, safe and whole, and tomorrow, the last few days will be nothing more than bad dreams."

At his words, something tugged at Legolas' heart, but he could not place the feeling. Stroking his long fingers through Aragorn's dark locks, he nodded his head, "As soon as you have eaten something I will go and find a healer. After that, you should sleep and regain your strength."

Groaning softly, Aragorn pressed his head into the cushion, "I need no healer, Legolas, really."

"That is something I will not discuss, Estel." Shaking his head, Legolas leaned down and kissed Aragorn's warm forehead. "It will ease my troubled heart to know that someone has taken a look at your wounds." Sighing, Aragorn closed his eyes and accepted Legolas' wish. Soon, a maid brought them strong wine and a thick broth, and Legolas and Aragorn ate until they were both filled. The strong wine warmed Aragorn more up than the fire, and when the jug was empty, he sank back on the bed and fell asleep in mere seconds.

While Aragorn slept, Legolas was not idle. He informed by the innkeeper about a healer and a locksmith, and an hour later, the locksmith had removed the chains around Aragorn's wrists, and the healer had promised to come to the inn as soon as he had seen to his latest patient. By early afternoon, the healer had seen to Aragorn's wounds, and left the inn with a few coins in his pockets. When he had done all he could at the moment, Legolas sat down at the head of the bed and rested his head against the headboard. Aragorn, already asleep again, cuddled close to him, his head resting on his chest. He breathing was even and deep, and some color had returned to his cheeks.

The healer had informed Legolas that the wrist was not broken but badly bruised, whereas one of Aragorn's ribs was broken, another bruised. The few cuts and abrasions Aragorn had suffered where not dangerous, but the prolonged exposure to wind, water and the cold had weakened him. He was lucky if all he got was a cold, and the healer had advised Legolas to keep the young human indoors, warm and well fed. The wrist and ribs had been bound, the cuts cleaned and the abrasions treated with a sweet smelling salve. The healer's words had alleviated some of Legolas' fears, and with his burden lifted from his shoulders, he felt his own exhaustion crawl up his limbs. It was but minutes before his eyes glazed over in elven sleep and his chin came to rest on his chest.

--oOo--

Early the next morning, when the fishermen readied their boats and the birds arrived at the piers to cheep hungrily until the fishermen threw them some scraps, Legolas kissed the sleeping Aragorn on his cheek, stepped into his boots and silently left the room. He had woken an hour before dawn, feeling restless and agitated. It had not taken him long to realize why he felt that way, and he had quickly come to a decision. As long as those vile men still moved freely in the town, he would find no rest. They had abducted his lover, had held him captive and then tried to kill them both. Who could tell that they would not try this again? What if those men kidnapped another elf or another human? And what if their next victim died? Legolas could not shake the feeling that he would be responsible if anything happened to some innocent husband or father. He knew that he could not rest ere he had found those men and brought them to justice.

He had not told Aragorn of his plan. Waking up and looking down at the relaxed face of his young lover, his chest lifting in regular intervals and his dark lashes contrasting against his pale cheeks, Legolas had not been able to wake him up. Instead, he hastened towards The Castellium and hoped that he would be back at the inn before Aragorn woke up. He was already at the other end of the town when the thought that he could have left Aragorn a letter crossed his mind.

--oOo--

A few hours later, Aragorn stretched his limbs and blinked his eyes tiredly. Sunlight streamed through the window and tiny dust particles danced in the air. The fire in the hearth had burned low, but it was still warm in the room. Looking around and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Aragorn saw that Legolas was not there. Disappointed but not alarmed, Aragorn washed and dressed, before he made his way down to the common room. Despite the early hour, a few dwarves sat at the tables, talking, drinking ale or engrossed in a game of dice. When he saw that Legolas was not in the common room, Aragorn asked the innkeeper about his lover's whereabouts.

"The master elf?" The dwarf asked, wiping a rag across the low counter. "He left quite early this morning, young Sir. But where he went I cannot tell."

Aragorn thanked the dwarf and returned to his room, where he stepped up to the window and gazed out across the lake. He felt a bit let down by Legolas; why had his friend not told him that he was leaving? Why had he not woken him? Numerous thoughts raced through Aragorn's mind, and he had a good idea where the elf might have gone. He shook his head with a sigh and stepped away from the window. If Legolas wanted those men caught so desperately that he even sneaked away without waking him, then maybe he would just have to let the elf have his way. After all, Legolas was centuries his senior, and he could look after himself. With another sigh, Aragorn stretched out on the bed, closed his eyes and waited for his friend and lover to return.

The sun was already nearing the horizon and the shadows in the small room filled with shadows, when the handle of the door was pushed downwards. The door creaked softly but did not budge; Aragorn had locked it when he had returned to his room in the morning. A moment later, the lock clicked and the door was pushed inwards. Orange light fell over the threshold and a large shadow loomed in the doorway. Silent as a wraith the tall figure scooted into the room, followed by another, slightly broader figure. The door was closed quietly, and a dim twilight filled the room. The hiss of a blade being drawn echoed from the walls, and the tall shadow moved forwards towards the bed.

Aragorn, fast asleep and caught in some bizarre dream, did not hear the creaking of the door or the deadly hiss of steel. It was only when cold steel pressed against his neck that his dream lifted and he came awake with a start. His eyes widened and he stayed absolutely still. The shadow loomed above him, dark and dangerous. Despite the twilight, Aragorn immediately recognized the man who pressed a dagger against his throat. He swallowed thickly as apprehension crawled up his chest.

"Hello, ranger. Did you miss me?" Madoc hissed, his eyes agleam with barely suppressed fury. "You did not really think that I would leave you alone, did you?" Madoc pressed the knife a bit deeper, drawing blood. "You destroyed everything, you and that bloody elf! And now you will pay." Before Aragorn could react, Madoc slammed the hilt of the dagger against his temple, and he knew no more.

--oOo--

Legolas was nervous. Not for the first time he cursed under his breath and berated himself for his own stupidity. Or maybe not stupidity, but naiveté. When he had arrived at The Castellium, he had asked for the leading officer and had quickly been brought to a high ranking officer who had patiently sat and listened to his story. But after that, things had not went well. While Legolas had planned to simply inform the town keepers of the kidnapping and subsequent attempt to kill him and Aragorn and then leave again to join Aragorn at the inn, the town keepers had other plans. They questioned Legolas for hours, and he had to repeat his story numerous times. When the humans were satisfied that he had left nothing out, they practically forced him to accompany them to the pier where he had met with Madoc. By now it was late afternoon, and Legolas was desperate to return to the Fat Fisherman and to Aragorn's side. He had never meant to leave his young friend alone for such a long time. What if his condition had turned for the worst? Surely Aragorn was beside himself with either worry or anger right now.

But despite his complaints and bouts of anger, the town keepers made Legolas show them the way to the pier. When they arrived, they searched the pier and the adjoining warehouses. What they found only proved to them that Legolas' story was true. In one of the shabby houses they found plans and drawings of the balloon Legolas had described, as well as some stolen goods. What they did not find, though, were the four criminals or the ship they had used the night before. It was already late in the afternoon when the town keepers finally let Legolas return to the inn. They promised to keep their eyes open and watch the pier and the house until they had found the four men.

Grumbling and bad tempered, as well as nervous about Aragorn's reaction upon his return, Legolas rounded the corner of the street that led to the Fat Fisherman. He stepped into the street, his thoughts already with Aragorn, when he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes widened and he felt as if someone had pushed him hard in the stomach. A shout left his lips before he could even think about it, and he shot forwards a second later.

There, right in front of him, Madoc and Willie carried an obviously unconscious Aragorn out of the inn and down the street towards the balustrade that lead out towards the Long-lake. When they heard his shout, their heads snapped around, but instead of dropping Aragorn, they only hastened their steps. They lifted the limb body of the ranger over the railing and dropped him onto the deck of a small vessel, just like they had done days prior. Legolas was maybe twenty feet away when Madoc jumped across the balustrade and landed with a thud on the deck of the boat. Willie swung his legs over the railing, too, but before he could jump, Legolas threw himself against him. With tangled arms and legs they crashed to the ground, their bodies locked in combat.

Throwing a vicious punch at Legolas, Willie scrambled to his feet. But before he could flee, Legolas kicked his legs out from under him, and with a shout the broad shouldered man fell to the ground. Blood spurt forth from his mouth, and he spit a yellow tooth onto the wood. Growling, Willie wiped the blood away and threw himself at Legolas. Ducking under the man's fist, Legolas twisted to the side and hit the man in his neck with all the strength he could muster. Without a sound, Willie 's knees gave way and he tumbled to the planks, unconscious.

Panting, Legolas hastened to the spot where he had last seen Madoc, hoping that he was not too late. But alas! The short fight with Willie had given Madoc all the time he needed to undock the vessel and sail out onto the lake. The ship was barely more than a small dark spot in the settling darkness. Again, Legolas had to watch helplessly as his friend and lover was taken away from him to a fate unknown. Fear, pure and strong raced through his limbs, and Legolas had to grip the wooden balustrade tightly to keep standing. Why had the men come back? And why had they – again – taken Aragorn?

A soft groan came from the street behind the elf, and Legolas slowly turned around. His eyes fell on Willie, who moved sluggishly. Taking a deep breath and releasing him slowly, Legolas pressed his lips tightly together. Maybe they had kidnapped Aragorn once again, but this time, Legolas was not absolutely helpless. Because this time, he had a hostage himself.

--oOo--

"Speak now, or you will regret it!" Legolas hissed, his face close to that of the man who sat slumped on the stool in front of him. When Willie did not speak and merely shook his head, Legolas drew his arm back and delivered another blow to Willie's cheek. The punch was not very hard nor very painful, but enough to cause the man to cringe in pain. "Speak, human!"

It was dark outside and the only light in the room came from the embers of the fire in the hearth. Clouds veiled the sky and the moon, and the glow from the streetlamps did not reach the room. But being an elf, Legolas had no trouble to see by the dim light. Whereas Willie, bound to a stool in the middle of the room, could barely see Legolas' tall frame. It had been three hours since Aragorn had been taken, and two since Legolas had started his questioning. So far, Willie had not said a word about the whereabouts or plans of Madoc, and Legolas was feeling his patience wear thin.

As an elf, Legolas was loath to mistreat a captive, for his upbringing and elven heritage forbid him to hurt another being without the need to protect himself. But Willie would not speak with him, and in the end Legolas saw no other way than to resort to violence, and he hated himself for what he was doing. Still, his need to find Aragorn and free him of the vile clutches of those men was stronger than his inbreed elven senses. He would do everything it took to get Aragorn back, and if this meant that he would have to hurt this man, then he would do so. So far, however, he had not made any progress.

Circling Willie, Legolas gave him a hard shove from behind, which caused Willie to nearly tumble from the stool. Had it not been for Legolas' quick grab, the man would have fallen flat on his face. Legolas' thoughts raced. Physical pain had so far not brought forth any progress. Willie was a bandit through and through, and he knew how to deal with pain. Legolas feared that he would not get any information from him when he stayed on his course. So, he mused, maybe he would have to change tactics. Taking a deep breath, he stopped his circling and leaned forwards, facing Willie.

Blood was still dripping from the man's mouth and his face was discolored and swollen, but his eyes were clear. There was fear in his eyes, but not enough to make him speak. It seemed that he man was determined to keep his mouth shut. Locking his blue eyes with the man's brown, Legolas narrowed his eyes. He moved his face so close to Willie's that the man involuntarily drew back. Sneering, Legolas bared his teeth like a predator, "I give you one last chance, human. Tell me where your friend brought the ranger and what his plans are."

"Never." Willie spit, shaking his head.

Legolas stared at him for another moment, unblinking and so close that Willie drew back once more. "As you wish, human." Moving away, Legolas slowly walked towards the small table that stood at the wall of the room. He rummaged around in his pack, then withdrew a small bowl, a thin knife and his healing herbs. Those he brought over to the hearth, placed a log on the fire and crouched down. He turned deliberately so that Willie could see what he was doing. After pouring some water into another bowl so that it could heat over the fire, Legolas crumbled some of the herbs into the bowl, added some salt and dry roots. He poured the warm water over the herbs, which began to sizzle and sputter. Softly, he began to chant under his breath in elvish and closed his eyes. He made a show of inhaling the fume of the herbs, shook his limbs and increased his mumbling in volume. A few minutes later, Legolas threw his head back and flashed his eyes, rolling them around and crying out as if in delirium. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Willie pale and writhe on the stool. Stark fear was visible in the man's eyes.

Had it not been for the seriousness of the situation, Legolas would have heartily laughed. Humans were such superstitious folk! For as long as human and elves knew of each others existence, the humans had feared the Firstborn and never made the attempt to get to know them and their customs. They told tales of their witchcraft and wizardry, of their rituals and spells. Those believes were as strong in Lake-town as in any other human settlement, although the humans here dealt with elves on a regular basis. And this superstition was what Legolas had hoped for. Maybe if he scared Willie enough, the man would finally tell him where Madoc had brought Aragorn and what his plans were.

When the room had filled with the stench of the herbs, Legolas slowly rose to his feet. He had deliberately chosen herbs that would smell strongly when mixed with water, and which also had the effect that they made the eyes burn and water. Already Willie was blinking his eyes repeatedly to clear them. Wailing low in his throat, Legolas rolled his eyes another time, then slowly approached the bound human. By now, tears and sweat poured down Willie's cheeks. Trying his best to sound crazed, Legolas took up the thin knife and held it close to Willie's head, "Hair for the Lord." He intoned in Westron, letting his tongue loll out between his teeth. He had no idea what he should do if Willie did not speak soon, but he hoped that his act would show effect soon. With the sharp knife he cut a strand of hair from the man and threw it into the flames. The hair sizzled and blackened in an instant.

Next, Legolas moved towards Willie's right arm. "Blood for the master," he said, and made a tiny cut into the skin. The cut was barely deep enough for blood to well up, but when Legolas moved with the bloodied blade towards the fire and made a show of letting a drop of the human's blood fall into the flames, Willie cried out in fear.

"What are you doing?? Stop that!"

Inwardly Legolas howled in triumph, but outwardly he stayed absolutely calm. With is back towards Willie, he began to chant in elvish, using words that must sound not only strange, but also menacing to the human. Had any elf heard him mumbling that gibberish under his breath, they would have laughed their pointed ears off. But, his chanting had the effect he had hoped for. Willie began to throw himself against his bonds, whimpering, "Bloody elf! Release me!"

Instead of releasing him, Legolas suddenly threw his arms into the air, high above his head, and shouted in elvish. Then, he snapped around and locked his crazed gaze on the pale human. He advanced, slowly, so that Willie would see his piercing eyes and the bloody knife in his hand. When he was close, he intoned in Westron, "A heart for the master." And he brought the knife down and cut away Willie's shirt so as if he wanted to cut out his heart. Before the blade touched his skin, Willie shouted loudly, "Alright, alright! I will tell you everything! Just stop it! Stop it!"

For a moment, Legolas stayed still, knife poised to strike, but then he withdrew. He narrowed his eyes at Willie, "My master is hungry, human. He will not be happy when I release you."

Sweat rolling down his forehead, Willie leaned forwards in his chair, "I will tell you everything you want to know elf, if you will but release me. Don't kill me."

Legolas turned back towards the flames and made as if to contemplate the request. "I cannot release you, for my master would find and kill you ere you have taken one step out of this inn." Legolas would not let the man who had twice kidnapped his friend and tried to kill him run free. As soon as this was over, he would deliver the man to the town keepers.

"Then … then I will stay here." Willie said, groping for straws. "I will tell you everything and stay here, then your master will not find me."

"Then tell me all you know, human."

And Willie told him all he wanted to now, and more.

To be continued.


	10. 10 A most vicious trap

**Hello, here is the next chapter. I hope you like it!**

Chapter 10: A most vicious trap

When he awoke, Aragorn blinked his eyes groggily and tried to clear his vision. His head hurt terribly, and his tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of his mouth. Swallowing thickly, he slowly lifted his head and looked around. At first, he could barely see anything, but then his eyes got used to the dim light and he could see that he was in a large room. The walls were made of wooden planks, as were the floor and ceiling. _Everything_ was made of wood. He saw boxes and some nets, some canvas bundles as well as a few barrels, a large table and some almost man high caskets. Turning his head to the side, Aragorn saw that he was bound to a thick wooden beam, which vanished in the ground and then rose up to the ceiling, where it, too, vanished from view. Frowning, he pondered his prison, when the ground suddenly jerked to the side, before it became stationary once more. At first Aragorn thought that he had been hit harder than he had initially believed. But then the room jerked once more, this time to the other side.

It was then that the young ranger knew that he was held captive in the belly of a ship. He was bound to the mast of the boat, with his arms wound around the wood. Aragorn rested his head against the mast and sighed. Again he had been kidnapped and brought on a ship. This was starting to get frustrating to say the least. What was it with this madman Madoc that he had to abduct him _again_? Surely the man was not planning to send him down into the lake once more to haul up the treasure? No, that was not possible. The platform as well as the strange construction had been destroyed by the flames, and Aragorn doubted that the men had built a second one. So, why had they taken him?

Revenge. The word immediately flittered through Aragorn's mind, and he could not help but tense. Madoc had threatened Legolas and him the night they had escaped, and there had been no mistaking the crazy gleam in the man's eyes. To find and lift the treasure of the dragon Smaug had been Madoc's sole purpose in life, and Legolas and he had thwarted his plans. It was only natural that a man as Madoc wanted revenge. But Aragorn had not thought that the man would act so quickly. It would have been more logical for Madoc to flee Lake-town, simmer in his own rage and then to later on try to get his revenge. Of course, by then Legolas and he would have long left the town behind.

Sighing, Aragorn closed his eyes; He should have anticipated this. While he waited for his kidnappers to get him, he twisted his hands in his bonds, this way and that, but to no avail. This time the men had tightened the bonds to an almost painful degree, and after a few minutes of useless trying, Aragorn had to concede that he would not be able to free himself. His thoughts turned away from his escape and to Legolas. What if Legolas had not left the inn on his own account but had been abducted by these men, too? After all, Legolas had not even left him a note or a letter. What if his friend and lover was held captive somewhere, just as he? Worry filled his stomach and he had to take a deep, calming breath.

That thought made no sense. If his kidnappers had also taken Legolas hostage, then why had they waited for hours before they came for him? It would have made more sense when they had taken them both at the same time, not first Legolas and then, hours later, him. No, Aragorn mused, Legolas had left the inn out of his own free will. The innkeeper had said that, too. Calming slowly, Aragorn pondered Legolas' and his own fate, when he heard the unmistakable sound of heavy feet on a wooden staircase. A few moments later, the door to the room opened, and weak light streamed over the threshold, accompanied by the smell of salty air and the screech of a gull. Doing his best to hide his apprehension, Aragorn turned his head and tried to catch a glimpse of his kidnappers. The heavy footsteps neared his position, and when the man stepped into his line of vision, Aragorn stared into the wicked face of Madoc. Behind the man, two more shadows loomed, presumably Willie and Rory.

Coming to stand in front of him, Madoc stared down at him, contempt and barely veiled anger on his face. "So we meet again, ranger." His eyes bore into Aragorn's and his nostrils flared. "But this time, your precious little elf will not save you." He leered down at Aragorn, then turned away abruptly, bellowing, "Rory!"

Rory came forward, followed by the red haired man called Nibs. Madoc nodded his chin in Aragorn's direction, "Bring him down into the cave and secure him. Make sure that he can't run away, I want no surprises when his friend arrives." And with a wicked, sideways glance at Aragorn, he added, "And don't be too kind with him, after all, he destroyed everything we have worked for so hard." And with that, Madoc turned around and left the room, his heavy boots stumping up the stairway.

Together with Nibs, Rory freed Aragorn from his fetters and unceremoniously hauled him to his feet. Aragorn swayed for a moment, his head pounding fiercely, but he managed to keep his balance. As soon as he was standing upright, his hands were yanked behind his back by ruff hands and his wrists were securely bound. When Rory tugged at the bonds to see if they were tight enough, Aragorn had to bite this lip to keep from wincing; the cord was cutting into his skin and already he could feel his fingers grow numb. Apparently, this time his kidnappers took no chances.

Without another word, Rory wrapped his strong hand around his upper arm and propelled him towards the door, while Nibs followed them quietly. Up they went and onto the deck of the ship. Lifting his head, Aragorn tasted the fresh breeze on his tongue and the unmistakable scent of mussels and seaweed. The sky was of a dark blue, dotted here and there with grey clouds, the sun was just setting behind the horizon. Looking around while Rory dragged him across the deck towards the gangplank, Aragorn saw that they were far away from the city; the town was just a speck of light in the distance to the South. The ship had been moored not far away from a stony beach, barely large enough to deserve the name. The beach gave way to a wall of rock, and when Aragorn let his gaze travel upwards, he saw that they stood in front of a massive rock formation, the first foothills of the mountains. A few scraggly trees here and there, a few bushes off to the side, formed the whole vegetation. The other shore of the lake loomed far in the distance, too far away for him to make out. With a cold stab of dread in his stomach, Aragorn realized that it would be practically impossible for Legolas to sneak upon the ship undetected.

Before he could follow that thought, Rory pulled him down the gangway and onto the stony beach. The tiny grey pebbles rolled around under his feet while Rory, he and Nibs crunched their way up the beach and towards the rock formation. In the dim light, Aragorn could barely see where they were going, and he wondered where the men were headed with him. He was but a few yards away from the rocks when he suddenly saw a dim light in front of him. Narrowing his eyes, the light became a torch….a torch that was many yards away. How was that possible? After a few more steps, Aragorn finally saw that there was a crack in the huge rocks, a cleft that was wide and large enough to let a man through.

And indeed, Rory jockeyed him through the passage, with Nibs on their heels. The cleft widened after a few steps into a larger tunnel, which wound its way between the rocks, then opened out into a cave. Here, torches lined the walls and bathed the cave into an eerie orange light. While Rory barely stopped in his tracks, Nibs quickly whisked past them, took one of the torches and from then on led the way. Turning left, they followed another tunnel, deeper into what Aragorn now mused was a vast cave system. They passed smaller caves, as well as some tunnel openings, following the main trail. In the light of the torch, Aragorn saw that most of the caves were empty, but not all. Some of the caves held wooden boxes and crates, some shelves with dusty bottles and flagons. Other caves showed signs of previous inhabitation.

While they went deeper into the mountain, the tunnel began to slope downwards and the air became cooler. The tunnels were dark, but in the light of the torch Aragorn could make out that every few yards, iron holders for torches limned the walls. Here and there, the stone was too smooth to have been created by nature alone. Soon, the walls turned wet and slick, and Aragorn knew that they had to be under the earth, to be more precise, under the Long-lake. The thought that they were walking down tunnels that led under the lake, with tons and tons of water over their heads, was frightening. Trying to chase the picture of a cave-in, tumbling stones and crashing waves from his mind, Aragorn spoke for the first time since he had woken from unconsciousness, "What is this place? Who dug these tunnels?"

Rory merely grunted and tightened his hold on his arm, "Shut up and walk." He hastened onwards, clearly discomfited in this underground world. But Aragorn would not be quieted that easily, "Did the dwarves built these tunnels? And if they did, then why are they here no longer? Surely you did not overpower the dwarves and claim the tunnel system for your own?" This time, Rory unceremoniously slammed him up against a wall, pressed his forearm against his throat and therewith effectively silenced him. He glowered at him, "One more word, ranger, and you will regret having ever been born." He pressed down harder and Aragorn felt his head pound fiercely once more. The lack of air made his knees wobbly and dark spots began to spread in front of his eyes. But before he lost consciousness, Rory pulled his arm away and let him breathe again. Gasping, Aragorn doubled over and coughed roughly.

They went deeper into the mountain, until they reached a t-shaped crossing at the end of the tunnel. Rory turned right and Nibs lit a torch that hung in a holder at the wall. The tunnel only went on for a few yards, before it ended in a massive iron door. The door stood open and behind it was another cave; it was not very large, the ceiling low, and a few more smaller tunnels – barely wide enough for a grown man to crawl through – lead away from it. Strange enough, the tunnels were situated at chest level. Rory opened the door and pushed Aragorn through the door. Nibs followed and quickly lit a few torches in the cave. Before Aragorn could do more than stare at the cave, Rory shoved him hard to the ground. Aragorn fell on his knees, wincing at the jarring pain it caused.

While Nibs waited close to the door, his eyes darting left and right nervously, Rory reached up and pulled something from the low hanging ceiling. Aragorn saw that it was a heavy metal chain. Grunting, Rory cut Aragorn's bonds, but before Aragorn could wrestle free, he placed a knife at his neck. "Bring your arms forwards, ranger, and no quick movements." Aragorn did as he was ordered, but he glared at Rory as best as he could. Putting the knife away, Rory quickly bound Aragorn's wrists, then fastened the heavy chain around them. He stepped away, leaving Aragorn kneeling on the ground.

Rory walked over to one of the walls, and a moment later, Aragorn heard the chain rattle above him. The chain became taut, and Aragorn felt his arms being lifted. He climbed to his feet and watched as Rory continued to pull at the chain. His arms were lifted high above his head. Soon, he had to stand on his toes and his arms were stretched painfully. Rory gave the chain another tug, and Aragorn grunted in pain as his feet left the ground. Dangling a hand from the ground, Aheragorn felt his wrists protest, especially his right, already injured one. His shoulders burned and his jolts cracked loudly. At the other side of the cave, Rory grinned wickedly at him. He purposefully tugged at the now taut chain, and Aragorn hissed at the pain the jolting caused him.

"There, that will do." Rory laughed and his voice echoed from the walls. A moment later, he marched towards the door and left without another word. Nibs looked after his retreating companion, hesitated as if he wanted to say something, but before he could even open his mouth, Rory's voice bellowed down the tunnel, "Nibs!"

With an almost apologetic smile, Nibs turned, closed the door behind him and left Aragorn alone in the cave.

Sighing in frustration, Aragorn glanced up at his bound wrists. He could barely feel his fingers, and in the dim light of the torches he saw that they lacked all color. The cords bit into his skin so deeply that tiny rivulets of blood sneaked down his forearms. Giving his arms an experimental tug, Aragorn winced as fiery pain shot through his shoulders and wrists. He softly swung to the side on the chain, and immediately gave up any thought of freeing himself. Valar, he could barely move; how was he supposed to cut his bonds and get off the chain? No, it was impossible to free himself without help.

Sighing once more and trying to ignore the pain that pounded in his head, shoulders and wrists, Aragorn let his gaze roam around the cave. It was not very large nor very high. The ceiling was but a few yards above his hands. The cave was almost circular, with five small tunnels that lead away into the darkness. The tunnels were situated chest level in the walls, and they were barely wide enough for a grown man to crawl through. When Aragorn tilted his head upwards, he saw that there was another tunnel in the ceiling, almost right above his head, and he wondered what the tunnel was there for. Surely it had not been built as a way in and out of the cave. A cold feeling of dread settled in his stomach, and he frowned at the tunnel. Unable to explain its existence or purpose, Aragorn let his head hang. And saw that there was another tunnel, right under his very feet. But the opening to this tunnel had been closed with a gate made of iron.

Frowning at the gate at his feet, Aragorn began to feel intensely uneasy. Looking around the cave slowly, he noted the small puddles of water in the corners, the black slime at the walls and the soft _drip drip_ of water coming from somewhere behind him. Swallowing, Aragorn suddenly wished that the men had taken the torches with them, so that he would not have seen the eerie evidence that this cave seemed to serve another purpose than mere storage space, although, he had yet no idea what this cave was used for.

Sending a prayer to the Valar that Legolas would hurry but be safe, Aragorn calmed his breathing, bit his lip to ignore the pain in his body, and waited.

--oOo--

Legolas hastened through the night, his feet almost flying across the large wooden bridge that led out of Lake-town. He was but a shadow in the night, a dark ghost chasing across the country. His long legs carried him northwards, to where his friend and lover was held captive. Willie had told him everything and Legolas was almost certain that the man had not lied. He had been too scared, too witless in the face of Legolas' sorcery. And what the man had told him had angered Legolas more than he had ever been.

Madoc, driven mad by his rage and desire for revenge, had known that Legolas and Aragorn would come to take them captive. Therefore, he had ordered his men to go into hiding. They had never returned to the town after the disaster at the platform. Instead, they had made plans. Madoc, assuming that they had survived the night, and that Aragorn would still be weak after the near drowning and the fire, deemed an attack as soon as possible as the best course. The plan had been to kidnap Aragorn, and then wait for Legolas to arrive. It was the same plan as the one before, but with an evil twist. It had never been Madoc's intention to ask for money or to force them to once more dive for the treasure. Instead, Madoc's intent was to kill Aragorn and Legolas.

To that end he had brought Aragorn to a cave system to the North of Lake-town and hid him there. Willie had told him that they had found the caves by accident. The caves had probably been built by the dwarves, but they were unoccupied now, and no one remembered that they existed. Madoc and his men used the caves as a hideout as well as a storage unit for their stolen goods. Willie had not been able to tell him what Madoc had planned in detail, but Legolas had no doubt that the maniac human had one or another card up his sleeve that he would play as soon as Legolas arrived at the caves. But Legolas would not let the men get the chance to kill them; rather he would do anything he could to sneak into the caves undetected, find Aragorn and free him and then sneak out again. And if Madoc crossed his way, then he would not hesitate to do what was necessary to ensure their safe escape.

Smiling grimly, Legolas hastened through the night until he neared the foothills of the mountains Willie had spoken of. Hiding behind some thick bushes, he peered out across the lake. In the distance the lights of Lake-town glimmered serenely, a mere dim glow in the dark night. Letting his gaze travel northwards, Legolas could make out another weak glow. Narrowing his eyes, he saw that it was the glow of a tiny lamp. It was dancing in the darkness, and Legolas knew then that the lamp was installed on a ship. And not any ship, but the ship of the kidnappers.

The ship was swimming on the waves, a few hundred yards from his current position. Legolas saw no other movement, and neither could he make out the cave that Willie had spoken of. The night was too dark, and even his elven eyes could not find the dark opening in the mountainside. He had to get closer. He moved northwards, along the shore of the lake. But soon his path was blocked by the foothills of the mountains. He could not go further. Cursing softly under his breath, Legolas doubled back, but no matter how long he searched, he found no way across the mountains, no way that led towards the caves. With a dark look at the ship that danced on the waves, Legolas removed his quiver and bow and then shed his cloak. Fastening his twin knives securely on his back, he took a deep breath and waded out into the cold water. When he could not reach the cave by land, then he would swim.

Like a shadow he crossed through the icy water, silent as a wraith and equally as deadly. His golden locks bobbed atop the surface like a star that had been swallowed by the black sea, and had anyone bothered to look, they would have surely seen him. But none gazed out at the lake, and so Legolas reached the hull of the ship undetected. For a moment he waited by the ship, gathering his strength and listening to the sounds of the night. He heard nothing but the soft whisper of the waves and the occasional splash of a fish and the surf hitting the small beach. There were no voices, no footsteps.

As silently as he could, he swam around the hull of the ship to the front until he was under the wooden gangplank. Still, he heard no sound and saw no movement. Heartened, he quickly swam towards the shore, climbed out of the water and hushed towards the mountain. Pressing his lithe back against the dark stone, he watched the cave opening. The opening was barely more than a cleft in the mountain, and Legolas now knew why he had not been able to see it from the shore of the lake; it was barely wide enough to let a man enter.

For a few minutes Legolas waited, his breath a white mist in the cold night and his clothing dripping water onto the pebbles at his feet. There was a dim glow issuing forth from the cave opening, and after a few moments of listening, Legolas could make out voices on the wind. Male voices. Without so much as a sound, he reached out and drew one of his trusted knifes. Gripping the white handle tightly, he took a step closer to the opening. He was just debating the best way to enter the cave, when the voices got louder. Someone was leaving the cave.

Apprehension and anticipation filling his stomach to equal parts, Legolas pressed his back tighter against the rock in his back and held his breath. He did not have to wait long. A moment later two men exited the cave. One of them was carrying a torch in his hand, the other a wooden box. They were talking in low voices and quickly walking down the beach towards the gangplank. Blessed with elven hearing, Legolas had no problem to understand their words.

"Madoc will be pleased when he hears that everything is ready." One of the men said, and Legolas assumed that it was the one called Rory. The other man had to be Nibs.

"Aye, he will be. But I guess he will be even more pleased when all of this is over. At least, I will be glad when this is over and we will leave this wretched area behind us." The man with the box stepped onto the gangplank, huffing under the weight of the box he was carrying.

Following his companion, Rory nodded his head, "A shame that Willie was caught by that elf, we could have needed his help. But what's done is done, I guess. But you are right. When this is over we have to leave Lake-town and start somewhere new."

"But where?" Nibs asked, and his voice became softer as he stepped onto the deck of the ship and turned to climb down, under deck.

"What about Gondor?" Rory said, sounding boisterous. "I've heard that city is full of riches and the finest maidens you've ever seen. I wouldn't mind going there."

Nibs answered something, but they were now under deck and Legolas could no longer hear them. He waited for some more minutes, but when they did not reappear on the ship, he quickly slipped inside the cleft and entered the cave system. It was not dark inside, for the men had ignited numerous torches that hung in brackets at the walls. The first cave Legolas entered was not very large, but it was big enough for the men to use it as storage space. Wooden boxes and crates filled the cave and lined the walls. Turning right, Legolas hushed to a tunnel that lead to another cave, but aside from some more crates, it was empty.

Therefore, Legolas turned left and made his way down the only other tunnel that existed. He walked as silently as he could and barely made a sound as he passed tunnels and smaller caves. The blade of his knife shimmered deadly in the light of the torches that hung at the wall, but he met no one on his way downwards. Every few steps he would stop in his tracks and listen with bated breath, but bar his own breathing he heard nothing. Soon, the walls turned slimy and moist, and Legolas assumed that he was now under the lake. His heart began to beat wildly in his chest as the thought of the massive mountains above him and the weight of the millions of tons of water above his head sneaked into his mind. Sweat began to wet his hands and he shook his head to chase the thought away. Valar, how many times had Aragorn teased him for his fear of caves…

Deeper he went into the tunnel system, stopping at doors and peering into caves, but there was no sign of Madoc or Aragorn. When Legolas reached a t-crossing, he stopped and let his gaze travel to the right and left. To the left, the tunnel sloped downwards and vanished in darkness, while the tunnel to the right was blocked by a heavy iron door. A cold feeling suddenly crawled down Legolas' back and made the tiny hairs on his neck stand on end. He quickly twisted around and peered back the way he had come. The feeling that he was being watched assaulted him, but he saw nothing. Swallowing his nervousness, he gripped his knife tighter and turned to the right, towards the iron door.

There was a small latch embedded into the door, like Legolas had seen them in the doors of his father's dungeon. His interest piqued, he stepped closer and slowly pushed the latch to the side. It creaked eerily in the stillness, and Legolas winced at the sound. He peered through the iron bars that filled the opening he had created. His breath caught in his throat and his hands immediately began to fumble for the handle of the door.

"Estel!"

With almost lightning speed, Legolas twisted the handle, opened the door and sped into the cave. Aragorn hung from a metal chain, his feet not even touching the ground. Even from behind the door it looked extremely painful, and Legolas felt his blood curdle at the sight. He would kill those men for what they had done to his lover! His feet swiftly carried him to Aragorn's side, who's eyes widened in disbelief as he saw his elven friend and lover.

"Legolas, what are you doing here, how did you find me?"

"That is a long story and one better told when we are far away from this place, Estel." Legolas smiled up at his lover and rested his hands at his cheek. "I was so afraid when they took you, and I could have hit myself for my stupidity. I should never have left you behind. I should have stayed and protected you." Guilt and self-loathing filled his blue eyes, and he shook his head ruefully.

Despite his painful position, Aragorn smiled at the Prince and shook his head, "You could not have known what they had planned, Legolas, and I doubt that you could have prevented it. And furthermore, I am no child anymore but a ranger and I am usually quite capable of looking after myself. Well, usually…" He glanced ruefully at the chains that held him. "Would you mind, Legolas? This is rather uncomfortable."

"Of course, wait…" Without further ado, Legolas stretched and made to cut the bonds that held Aragorn, when the young ranger suddenly shouted, "Legolas behind you!"

Turning around, Legolas saw with mounting horror that the door opening was no longer empty. Rory, Nibs and Madoc stood in the tunnel, torches and knives in hand. With a wicked leer on his face, Madoc took the door and swung it shut. The metal hit the frame with a loud _clunk_ and a moment later the clicking of a key in the lock echoed from the walls.

It was a trap.

With his blood freezing in his veins, Legolas stepped in front of Aragorn and stared at the face of Madoc that loomed through the iron bars of the door. For a moment, absolute silence reigned. And then, the hated, blood chillingly maniac voice of Madoc filled the small cave. "Like bees to honey. I knew that Willie would not keep his mouth shut, but no matter. You came and that is all I wanted. Oh elf, you made it so easy, it was almost no fun at all."

Gritting his teeth, Legolas barely suppressed his building rage, "What do you want, human?"

"Oh, isn't that obvious?" Madoc grinned and his face took on a crazy glint in the light of the torches. "I want you dead, you and that pathetic ranger."

Driven speechless by his anger, Legolas could only stare at the human. How stupid he had been! Of course it had been a trap. No guards at the entrance, light in the tunnel that led straight to Aragorn, the iron door unlocked…it had all been a trap, devised for him to come here, find Aragorn and be trapped with him in this little cave. It galled Legolas that he had been tricked by these men, and that Aragorn would now have to pay for his folly.

"Then why play this little crazy game instead of killing us? You are a coward, Madoc, by hiding behind this door." Aragorn shot at the man, his own anger fuelled.

For a moment Madoc's face paled, but then it turned bright red in rage. Spittle sprayed from his teeth as he hissed, "Ah, nice try little ranger, but I won't fall for that. After all I'm no fool. Your elf would kill me the moment I step over the threshold. No no no, I'd rather watch you die from the distance. Dead is dead."

He stepped away from the door and a moment later the sound of iron scraping over iron filled the cave. In the distance, the sound of metal on stone echoed from the walls, and somewhere close by stones rolled down a tunnel. And then the unmistakable sound of rushing water filled the cave. Legolas and Aragorn exchanged a look, then stared at the smaller tunnels that led away from the cave. The sound of rushing water intensified in volume. Lifting his head, Aragorn stared up that the tunnel that was situated above his head. Water began to drip onto his head. A second later, a strong gush of water poured forth from the tunnel. The pressure was so strong that Aragorn's head was pressed down, his whole body forced downwards. The chain around his wrists tautened impossibly; Aragorn groaned in pain.

To his side, Legolas stared in shock as water not only poured from the tunnel in the ceiling, but also from the five other small tunnels in the cave. Already the water stood to his ankles, and it was rising quickly. Behind him, Madoc began to laugh manically, "Have a nice death!" And with that he shut the small window in the door, leaving Legolas and Aragorn to their deaths.

To be continued.

**Whether you liked or hated this chapter, please let me now by reviewing. Thank you!**


	11. 11 Lost to a cold and wet grave

Chapter 11: Lost to a cold and wet grave

Despite the torrent of water that barreled against his head and shoulders, Aragorn tried to keep breathing. He swallowed more water than air, and his lungs began to protest against the abuse. Coughing and spitting, he pulled at his bonds, but to no avail. The gush of water was too strong, its force unimaginable; Valar, he could not even lift his head against the onslaught! To his immense relief, he soon felt strong hands grip his forearms, and a moment later he was freed of his bonds. Without the support of the metal chains, the water immediately pressed him downwards, and he crashed face down to the floor, taking Legolas with him. The water washed them away a few feet, so strong was its downpour.

Aragorn sat up, coughing and spitting water. Beside him, Legolas quickly got to his feet and kneeled down in front of him. "Are you alright, Estel? Are you hurt?" Sincere concern swung in his voice, and he examined him quickly for injuries. Aragorn groaned when he moved his arms and shoulders, but he wasn't really hurt. His right wrist pounded painfully, as did his broken rib, but already the cold water dulled the worst of the pain. He shook his head and climbed to his feet, "I'm well, Legolas, at least, I'm not worse than before." Wiping water out of his eyes, he glanced at Legolas, "What are _you_ doing here, Legolas? How did you find me? What happened to you?"

Relieved that Aragorn had not been hurt by his abductors, Legolas lifted his hand to forestall more questions, "There is time for talk later, and I will explain everything to you. But first we have to get out of here." And he was right. Already the water rose to their knees, and while they watched, it rose another few centimeters. "Is there another door, have you seen anything?" Legolas asked and began to circle the cave, looking for a way out.

"No, there is no other way out but the door we came through." Aragorn waded through the rising water towards the iron door. Although he knew that the door was locked, he joggled the doorknob; to no avail, the door was locked and probably barred as well. Grunting in frustration, he let go of the doorknob and turned to Legolas, "Do you have a picklock with you? Or anything thin and sharp?"

Having finished his round around the small cave, Legolas sidled up beside the ranger and shook his head, "No, nothing but my knives and a dagger, but that is not thin enough for this lock." When his eyes met Aragorn's, his desperation was easily visible in his blue orbs. "What now?"

Looking around the cave at the rising tide and the gallons of icy water that still rushed through the tunnels, Aragorn felt a strange calmness settle over his senses. There was no way out, no way to escape the water. Taking a deep breath, his grey eyes met Legolas' steadily. Staring at the calm eyes of his human friend and lover, the almost apologetic shrug of his shoulders, Legolas felt his blood begin to surge through his body in denial. Shaking his head furiously, he reached for his dagger and crouched down before the door, "This will not be our end, Estel. We have come so far, these men will _not_ best us." With the water up to his chin, Legolas began to pick at the lock, but as he had said, his dagger was not thin enough, and he could not insert its tip into the lock. It was hopeless. Howling in frustration and anger, Legolas threw the dagger from him and got to his feet.

"This cannot be happening." He exclaimed, looking around wildly. "This is not supposed to happen!"

Aragorn felt his heart tear apart as he saw how Legolas slowly lost his otherwise always so calm and strong composure. The Prince's eyes flickered left and right, and his hands balled into tight fists at his side, evidence of his rising panic. Reaching out instinctively, Aragorn wrapped his fingers around Legolas' wrist and pulled him near. "I'm so sorry, Legolas. I wish you had never found me here. I was so stupid to let my guard down. These men should never have been able to kidnap me…again. I'm so, so sorry, Legolas." He pressed his face against Legolas' golden locks, holding him close.

Slowly, Legolas relaxed against his tall frame. He took another shuddering breath, before he shook his head, "Nay, don't apologize, Estel. It was my fault for I should have never left you behind in your weakened state. If anyone is to blame, then it is me."

For a moment, they simply held each other, both trying to deal with the inevitable; they would die, drown in this small cave somewhere under the mountains, under the Long-lake. No one would ever find their bodies or learn of their cruel fate. When the worst of the panic was slowly subsiding, Legolas lifted his head from Aragorn's shoulder and glanced around the cave. The water was now chest high, and it was still rising. Soon it would reach the torches that hung from the wall, leaving them in total darkness. He shuddered, thinking about the black death that awaited them.

At his side, Aragorn sighed deeply and followed his gaze. He visibly shuddered at the sight that met him, but astonishingly he stayed completely calm. His heart beat rhythmically in his chest, his breath was even, and his head clear. This had happened before to him, this total calmness that settled over him whenever things went down South, when others broke down in despair and panic. More than once this calmness had saved his life when beset upon by rogues or orcs. Slowly, his focus sharpened, and he automatically narrowed his eyes. Mechanically, his gaze roamed over the rising waters, the flickering torches, the dark walls. Finally, it came to rest of the water gushing out of the tunnels. The tunnels must lead up to the Long-lake, and they must have been blocked by some door or other. Madoc had opened them from outside this cave. The man had activated one or other mechanism and a few seconds later, icy water had rushed down the tunnels.

Suddenly, Aragorn's eyes widened and his stomach did a summersault. Adrenalin flooded his body. The water had streamed into the cave only _a few seconds_ after Madoc had activated the mechanism. Did that not mean that the tunnels were not _that_ long? For surely, when the tunnels were a few hundred feet long, the water could not have gotten to the cave so quickly. And when the tunnels were not that long, then maybe …. Maybe…

Turning around, Aragorn grabbed Legolas' arm, "Maybe this will not be our end, my friend."

Confused, Legolas gazed at him with wide eyes, "You have found a way out?"

"I think I did." His voice sharp with barely suppressed hope, Aragorn explained his observation to the Prince, "When Madoc activated the mechanism to open the tunnels, the water came rushing down very quickly. It was here in barely a few seconds. Does that not indicate that the tunnels are not very long?" When Legolas nodded slowly, absorbing this news, Aragorn continued eagerly, "And when the tunnels are not that long, probably only a hundred yards, then maybe we could hold our breath long enough to dive out of here."

Legolas shook his head, "But how? The water pressure is too strong, we will never be able to even enter the tunnels." He looked despondently at the cold water that rushed out of the tunnels. When his gaze returned to Aragorn, he saw a strange gleam in his friend's eyes, "You already have a plan, have you not Estel?"

"Aye, I have." Aragorn nodded his chin at the rising water, "Once the cave is filled, the water will no longer gush down the tunnels like it does now. The pressure will abate and we will be able to swim out of here. Through the tunnels."

Thinking about this idea for a moment, Legolas knew that it was their only chance of survival. But still, there was another thing that bothered him, "And what about the lake? What if we get out of the tunnel only to find us at the bottom of the Long-lake?" His blue eyes met Aragorn's grey, "We will never make it up to the surface."

To his surprise, Aragorn merely shrugged, "I rather die a free man than locked away in this cave." Legolas could only join him in this, and he nodded his head, "Alright, Estel. So, we will wait now?"

"Aye, we will wait." Aragorn said softly, and his voice was almost swallowed by the sound of the crashing waters around them. Icy spray filled the air and sprinkled their faces. A fine mist lay over the water's rising surface, coating the walls.

Legolas was surprised when he suddenly felt warm lips press against his neck, right under his ear. Startled, he turned his head, only to have his lips caught in a sweet, but eager kiss. A demanding tongue invaded his willingly parting lips, and strong, masculine arms circled his body, pressing him tight against Aragorn's tall frame. Caught totally unawares by this onslaught of fiery warmth and sweet taste, Legolas could do nothing but hold on, his senses on fire. He returned the kiss eagerly, almost hungrily, and his hands soon found Aragorn's dark locks. They kissed for a long moment before Aragorn broke away, panting slightly. "I don't want our possibly last moments to be filled with fear and pain, Legolas." He traced his hand through Legolas' silky strands as if he wanted to memorize the feel of them.

"Neither do I." Legolas said, then leaned in to capture Aragorn's sweet lips in another kiss. While they kissed as if it was their last kiss on Arda, the water around them rose steadily. The first waves reached the torches, and with a hiss the first orange flame died. The second soon followed, and after a moment, nothing but darkness remained. Their bodies pressed together and their arms holding each other, Legolas and Aragorn felt the water lap at their chins. Breaking the kiss, they stayed close, both of them battling the slowly rising panic they felt.

"I don't want to die, Legolas." Aragorn softly whispered, his voice sounding younger in the darkness, but unwavering. "I always knew that my day would one day come, but I have never thought that I would go like this. You know, I always imagined that I would die fighting, with my sword in hand." He tried to sound jovial, but failed miserably. He trembled in Legolas' arms, and it was not only due to the cold of the water.

Pressing his forehead against Aragorn's in support, Legolas answered, "I always imagined you to die an old man, having had a full and happy life."

In the darkness, Legolas felt Aragorn snort softly, but then he tensed slightly and lifted his head out of the water so that he was able to speak, "And I never imagined your death, Legolas. You are not supposed to ever die." He held Legolas even tighter against his body, his breath warm against Legolas' skin. "I'm sorry, Legolas."

Before the Prince could reply, his feet suddenly left the ground, and he had to spread his arms to keep afloat. Not being able to see Aragorn, Legolas supposed that his friend was treading water, too. Lifting his hand, Legolas felt the cold ceiling scrape along his fingertips. Dread, cold and sharp, assaulted his stomach; only a few more minutes and then the water would reach the ceiling, and they would have to dive into the unknown. '_At least,_' he thought wryly, '_we don't have to watch each other's death struggle should this end badly_'.

Now, with but a few minutes to breathe, Legolas could not help but feel the panic shoot through his body. What if Aragorn was wrong and the tunnels were long, too long for them to swim through? What if the pressure did not cease? What if the end of the tunnel was blocked by something, and they could not get through? What if….

Before he could think of more _what if's_, his head scraped along the ceiling and he had to tilt his head back to be able to breathe. Suddenly, a hand was pressed against his body, and Legolas quickly took hold of Aragorn's searching fingers. With barely enough air left to breathe, he managed a few words, "Estel, are you ready?"

"As ready as I can be." Came the reply, and the young man squeezed his fingers tightly. "Legolas, I want you to know that I love you. And should this end badly, should I not make it …" Legolas interrupted him sharply, "Don't say this, Estel. I don't want to hear it." Water entered his mouth and nose, and he coughed heavily. This gave Estel the time he needed to finish his sentence, "Legolas, should I not make it out of here alive, then I want you to be happy again. I want you to live your life." The water was so high already that there was barely time left, and Aragorn spoke quickly, "Enjoy Arda, Legolas. Go on travels, see the land. And I want you to find love, Legolas. Please." And then the time was up, the water lapping against the ceiling. With a last squeeze of Legolas' fingers, Aragorn took a deep breath, before he was swallowed by the dark waters.

His own breath held tightly in his chest, Legolas felt his eyes burn with tears he could not shed. Aragorn's words had affected him deeply; even in his possibly last moments, his friend and lover was only thinking of Legolas' well being. Never before in his long life had Legolas encountered a being so selfless, with such a strong sense of humility. He was truly blessed to have captured the affections of such a dear heart.

As soon as the water reached the ceiling and Legolas was swallowed by the water, the world around him changed. The moment he dived, all sound around him vanished, as if whisked away by magic, and the silence was deafening. The darkness around him, the chill of the water, the enormous pressure that burdened his lungs, it made Legolas feel as if he was already in his own tomb.

When his hand was suddenly tugged forwards, Legolas was ripped out of his morbid thoughts. Focusing on the task at hand, he pushed away from the ceiling and followed Aragorn downwards towards one of the tunnels. He could not see his friend, but he felt his strong strokes, and so he let go of Aragorn's hand. When they neared one of the tunnel openings, Legolas knew that Aragorn had been right. The water around the hole was quiet, no more water spilled forth. With a quick pad on Aragorn's leg, Legolas preceded him into the tunnel. His long arms and strong strokes quickly brought him through the tunnel. His fingertips scratched against the tunnel's walls, but the tunnel was just wide enough to let him dive through it.

Behind him, Aragorn followed him with long strokes, but his hurting shoulders and broken rib slowed him down. Soon, the young ranger fell behind – unnoticed in the dark stillness under the mountain.

When Legolas thought that maybe they had been wrong and the tunnel too long, the light in the channel changed. First it turned from black to a very dark grey and then to a lighter shade of grey. In the light, Legolas could – finally – make out the end of the tunnel. To his surprise, the light was coming from the waters behind the passageway, as well as some green lichen that clung to the tunnel's walls. He did not dwell on this, though, but pressed eagerly on. His lungs already felt ready to burst, and he knew that he had little air left. But a few strokes brought him to the mouth of the tunnel. There was an iron gate at the end, a massive door that was now hidden inside the wall of the tunnel. Legolas assumed that the mechanism that Madoc had used would activate it to slide forwards once more and block the tunnel. He shuddered at the side, swam forwards and was finally free of the tunnel. Lifting his head, he saw light coming from above; the surface could not be that far away!

Turning back to the tunnel, Legolas waited for Aragorn to arrive. To his surprise, his friend was not close behind him as he had thought. Worried, he swam back to the entrance and peered inside. He could just make out Aragorn's form in the darkness. Even in the dim light Legolas could see that the ranger was having troubles. His strokes lacked strength and he was not swimming as fast as Legolas knew he could. But he was determined and he was but a few yards away from the mouth of the tunnel. Legolas inwardly heaved a sigh of relief. They would make it! Although, there was a little voice in the back of his head telling him that they were not in safety yet.

--oOo--

Under the mountain, Madoc paced in front of the locked iron door. Water was shooting out at its sides and through the lock, drenching the tunnel and its walls. Now and again, the man threw a maniac look at the door, biting his lips. How long should he wait? Another few minutes? Half an hour, just to make sure? Behind him, Rory and Nibs leaned against the walls, waiting for their leader to make the next step.

When Madoc could wait no longer, he stopped in his tracks and gestured at the door. "Rory! Close the gate at the end of the tunnel. Now!" Rory quickly did as Madoc had said. Ducking his head he hastened forwards towards the door, trying to evade the icy water and failing miserably. He placed his strong hands against the large iron wheel that clung to the wall, and with a mighty effort he slowly turned it anticlockwise. The wheel shuddered under his hands and it was slick with water, but it turned nevertheless. Once he had the wheel in motion, it was easier to handle. In but a few moments the wheel creaked and would move no more. He knew – they all knew – that the massive iron doors at the mouths of the tunnels had now been closed. Turning, Rory made his way over to the other side of the wall, where a slightly smaller wheel hung. He turned this clockwise, until this wheel, too, would move no more. He had just opened the door in the floor in the flooded cave, so that the water could run out. Stepping back, Rory returned to his place at the wall to wait.

While Madoc stared at the door, waiting for the water to drain off, he once more marveled at the ingenuity of the dwarves of old who had built this cavern and the adjoining tunnels. He had not the slightest idea what the dwarves had used the chamber for, but it had suited his purpose perfectly. Now he only had to wait for the water to be gone, before he could admire his handiwork. Two bodies, drowned, dead. No longer would these troublesome beings interrupt and destroy his plans. No, he had taken care of them. Once and for all.

--oOo--

At the mouth of the tunnel, Legolas watched as Aragorn drew nearer to the opening, his strokes regular but lacking his usual strength. Apparently his recent injuries were hindering him, and Legolas was sure that the cold was hampering his muscles, too. In his mind, he silently cheered his friend on. '_Only a few more yards, Estel. Come on, you are almost there!_'

As if Aragorn could hear him, the human lifted his head and gazed in his direction. His mouth twitched as if in a smile, and Legolas could see that he was trying to put more strength into his strokes. "_No, easy Estel. Save your strength, for the way up to the surface is still long._' Legolas continued to watch, his lungs burning in his chest. When he already felt ready to burst, then how must his human friend feel? Legolas feared to dwell on that thought, and refocused on the ranger. He was so alert on Aragorn, that he did not see the shudder of the thick iron door that slowly slid forwards out of the wall. It was only when the metal bumped against his shoulder that Legolas realized with horror that the door was moving. Closing! His first impulse was to shout at Aragorn to hurry, and before he knew what he was doing, big bubbled of air left his opened mouth. He quickly clamped it shut again. Panic began to rise in his throat. The door was already halfway closed and it was still moving. Glancing down the tunnel, Legolas saw that Aragorn was still a few yards away. Too far away. And apparently he had not yet noticed that the door was closing; his head was bowed and he was concentrated on his movements.

Legolas felt a wave of helplessness and panic wash over him. He wanted to shout, to rant, to throw his arms into the air! '_Estel! Look! Hurry, my friend, hurry!_' The door slid another few centimeters, and Legolas moved to the side so that he could still see Aragorn. In that moment, the ranger lifted his head. When he saw the door, his eyes widened in shock and his movements staggered. His eyes met Legolas', disbelief etched into his features. '_Come!_' Legolas silently screamed, beckoning Aragorn with his hand to hurry. The young ranger pushed forwards as fast as he could, his arms cutting through the water. Time was racing against him, and he knew it.

At the door, Legolas tried to slow its gait, to push it back, but to no avail. The iron was too thick and strong, and he could do nothing to stop it. Letting his eyes race across the wall and the immediate surroundings, Legolas saw nothing with which to block the door. The mouth of the tunnel had been hewn into the side of the mountain, and under Legolas was only deep, black water. The door was closed to 2/3 now, and Aragorn was still feet away. In his desperation, Legolas reached his arm through the opening that was left. '_Please!_'

His lungs on fire, his stomach filled with ice, Aragorn swam as he had never down before, but he knew that he would not make it. Angry tears stung his eyes, desperation wanted to swallow him. Pushing forwards, his fingers tips almost brushed against Legolas'. Another stroke and Legolas' long fingers closed around his wrist. Aragorn felt himself pulled forwards, but the gap between door and wall was now too small for him to get through. His shoulder bumped painfully against the door, and he tried to squeeze through nevertheless, but it was not to be. If he did not want to get stuck between the door and the wall, he had to retreat, and that he did.

Treading water, he wrapped his fingers around Legolas', heart thumping painfully in his chest. Through the gap that still remained, he saw the Prince's panic filled eyes, the blame, the heartbreak. Once more, a calmness settled over his senses. So this was it, this was how he would die. At least, he thought, Legolas was safe. He would carry the tale of his end to his family, his friends and the rangers. At least his family would know what became of him. He took comfort from that. When he door was almost closed, he drew near, pressed his face against the metal. On the other side, Legolas did the same. In that moment of silence between them, when none could speak but with their eyes, both said more than they had ever been able to say with words. In the last possible moment, Aragorn let go of Legolas' fingers and withdrew his arm.

Bereft of Aragorn's touch, Legolas' arm lingered for a moment longer. Only when the iron chafed at his skin did he withdraw. Still, his arm was almost caught by the door, and he retained deep, bloody scratches.

No sound marked the closing of the door, no loud _bang_ to underline what had just happened. Aragorn was gone. Caught behind the door in a tunnel filled to the ceiling with water. He would drown, find his end alone, trapped, helpless. A sob rose in Legolas' throat and a bubble of air burst forth. A part of him wanted to remain here, with Aragorn, but his sense of survival was too strong. While his mind was caught in the tunnel with Aragorn, his body reacted and propelled him upwards, towards the surface. Long before he reached it, his lungs burned with molten lava and his strength failed him. His head began to pound in the rhythm of his heartbeat, and dark spots appeared in his vision. Was this his end, too?

When he could hold his breath no longer, Legolas instinctively opened his mouth. Water rushed in through his nose and mouth, choking him. His legs still pushed him upwards, but the pull from beneath was strong. With his last remaining strength, Legolas pushed his legs and arms, and finally –finally – broke the surface. Cool, moist air filled his mouth and he coughed. Spitting water, Legolas paddled in the water. When his breathing calmed, he lifted his head and looked around. He could neither see the small pebbled beach nor the ship. There was a huge rock formation in front of him, a strand to his left, only a few hundred yards away. With pain in his mind and a deep black hole where his heart had been, Legolas turned and swam towards the beach. Swam away from where Aragorn had been trapped, had died. Legolas was only too well aware that he was swimming away from Aragorn's wet grave.

Barely conscious of what he was doing, Legolas swam to the coastline of the lake. The waves of the lake washed him ashore, until he came to rest on the muddy bank of the lake, his legs still half in the lake. Panting, sobbing, immeasurably hurting inside, Legolas lay on the bank. His eyes were closed, his hands fisted tightly, and from his chest sobs found their way into the air. He lay there for a long time, and only when he had spent himself, when he could give no more, did sleep finally wash over him. Night settled over the lake and the land.

--oOo--

On the other side of the iron door, Aragorn struggled for his very life. His lungs burned with liquid fire, his head pounded in the rhythm of his heartbeat and myriads of black spots appeared in his vision. And while he tried to keep his mouth shut, to hold his breath, he knew that it was pointless. He had been too late. His injuries had hampered his swimming abilities, he had not been strong, not swift enough. Aragorn knew without a doubt that he would pay with his life for his failure to reach the end of the tunnel in time. But Legolas, he had made it, had reached the safety of the lake. It was consolation for Aragorn to know this, but it did not diminish the fear that clutched at his heart. To drown was a horrible death…

So, why put off the inevitable? Why fight a fight you cannot possibly win? As his world slowly dimmed around him, his movements becoming feeble and weak, Aragorn pondered whether he should not just open his mouth and breathe in the liquid, icy death into his lungs. Surely his death would be less painful that way. He was still pondering this, when there was a sudden shift in the water around him. Before Aragorn knew what was happening, a mighty suction pulled him backwards, away from the iron door. Unable to control his limbs in the eddying water, Aragorn felt his body been thrown this way and that, sucked through the tunnel as if by a strong hand. The force of the water slammed him against the side of the tunnel, scratching his back and knocking the breath out of his lungs. His body reacted immediately by breathing in. But instead of life giving air, icy water filled his lungs. He sped through the tunnel, tumbling head over heels. His lungs screamed for air and Aragorn gasped automatically. To his surprise, he was able to snatch a tiny mouthful of air, before the water pulled him down once more.

Trying to cough, more water entered his mouth and nose, and while he was sucked into the darkness, Aragorn knew that this was his end. Another eddy caught him, crushed his head against the ceiling of the channel. Black exploded around him, and he knew no more.

--oOo--

"Open the bloody door." Madoc grunted, stepping from one foot to the other. Rory was only too willing to comply; he was almost as curious as Madoc was to see inside the cave. They had waited for the water to recede, had taken a look inside through the hole in the door when the water that gushed through the sides of the door had shown them that the water had sunk. It had been dark inside the cave and they had seen nothing, with certainly contributed to Madoc's haste in opening the door. Rory inserted the old brass key into the lock and opened the door. Water sloshed over his feet and shins, running down the tunnel. He peered inside, but was quickly pushed aside by Madoc.

The three man, Madoc, Rory and Nibs, entered the small cave and glanced about in the light the torches they carried threw at the walls. Water dripped from every surface; the walls, the ceiling, the tunnels. Everything was glistering in the torchlight, reflecting the orange glow. It was eerie to hear the _drip drip_ of the water in the otherwise complete stillness. Standing beside Rory, Nibs swallowed thickly as his gaze fell on a dark heap on the ground. He stepped closer, but Madoc reached the heap before him. In the light of the torch, Nibs saw that it was the ranger. The elf was nowhere to be seen. Standing above the lifeless form of the ranger, Madoc let the light of his torch show this way and that. His face was pinched, his eyes hard, "Where is the other?" He grunted, agitated. "Where is that bloody elf?" But neither Rory nor Nibs had an answer to that. When Rory merely shrugged, Nibs felt his throat tighten. He was almost afraid to speak, as if he was somehow to blame that the elf was not in the cave. When Madoc's flickering gaze came to rest on him, he timidly ventured, "Maybe he was sucked away with the water."

Without a word, Madoc made his way over the opening in the ground, right under the spot where the ranger had hung from the ceiling. The iron gate in the ground had been opened and swallowed the water that had only minutes prior filled the cave to the brim. Rivulets of water still dripped down its edges to vanish in the complete darkness of the tunnel. Madoc stared into the tunnel at his feet. It was wide, but not much so. Had the elf vanished in this small tunnel, sucked away with the rest of the water? Pondering this, Madoc had to concede that it was not very likely, given the size of the opening, but possible. He clenched his teeth in frustration and balled his fist. How he would have loved to see the death form of the elf, the still face, the open eyes that stared into nothing. But never mind, never mind. He was dead, as sure as the sun would rise in the morning. No one could survive the cave's trap.

After another hateful glare at the dark tunnel, Madoc turned and walked slowly towards the tumbled heap on the ground. The ranger lay on his side, limbs somehow disarranged and his dark hair plastered across the side of his face. Madoc gave the lifeless form a stern kick, but the body merely shifted to the side a bit, before it became stationary again. Madoc snorted, then gave the body a kick in the shoulder, which turned the body onto its back. The head of the ranger lolled to the side, a small trickle of blood and water trickling down the side from a wound right over the ear. In the flickering firelight, Madoc stared at the dead young man at his feet. A slow, wicked smile played across his face and his eyes gleamed in satisfaction.

Then, without another word, he turned and headed for the door. Rory followed him quickly, as did Nibs. When Nibs reached the door, he threw another look over his shoulder at the ranger. Somehow, it felt wrong to leave him behind in the cave. Nibs could not explain his feeling, but it was there. For maybe the first time in his life, Nibs regretted that he had chosen Madoc for company. What they had done was not right. But what's done is done. With a sigh, Nibs left the cave and followed Madoc and Rory into the cave system.

To be continued.

**First of all, thank you all for the nice review. They really, really keep my spirits up! So, if you want to read the next chapter, keep sending** **reviews! :D**


	12. 12 Revenge

**Hello! Here is the next chapter. I am so sorry for the long wait, but real interfered.**

Chapter 12: Revenge

Legolas had no idea how long he sat on the beach, staring across the blue waters and the white foam that swam on the waves and the dark rocks that sparkled in the sunshine, seeing nothing. He had woken by the warm wind that brushed his face and the screeching gulls hunting for fish in the lake. Since then, he had not moved. His clothing was dry, as was his hair, and the deep cuts on his arms had long since stopped bleeding. Legolas neither noticed nor cared. He was empty inside, as if someone had opened his chest and mind, had emptied him of his heart and soul, and had closed him again. He was a shell, trapped in a horrible nightmare that was only too real.

Aragorn was dead.

From the moment consciousness returned to him, Legolas had known that it had been no dream. He had left his lover behind in the dark tunnel to die a horrible death. The image of Aragorn's lifeless body swimming in the water of the tunnel, limbs floating in the current, his dark hair playing eerily around his face tormented Legolas, and his mind had shut down in an attempt to escape from the garish scene.

As if nature itself was mocking him, the day was sunny and warm, the birds twittered overhead, and puffy white clouds sailed lazily over the horizon. Everything seemed so unreal to Legolas; Aragorn was dead! Should the world not sink into darkness, be swallowed by blackness or at least mark his passing in some way? But no, the world did not care whether the young man was dead or not, it mocked Legolas with its beauty and life.

It was so unfair! Why Aragorn? Why him? Should it not have been Legolas to die? He was hundreds of years old, had seen and done so much. Aragorn had been so young, barely a man yet. He had had so many plans and ambitions, there had been so much yet for him to achieve. Aragorn had had a future full of adventures and experiences ahead of him. It was just not fair that it must have been him to die. It should have been him, Legolas. Had he not once promised him to keep Aragorn safe? And now Aragorn was dead because Legolas had failed him…

Sitting on the beach, his mind far away, Legolas mourned the death of his friend and lover. But he held his feelings back, was unwilling to unleash his whole grief. He knew that once his grief overwhelmed him, he would begin to wither away, to fade. But he could not fade, not yet. There was one more thing he had to do before he could let his sorrow wash over him. Slowly, Legolas got to his feet and waded out into the cold water of the lake.

He would reclaim Aragorn's body and bring him home.

And he wanted revenge. Deep down inside of him, under the emptiness he felt, his elven blood boiled in anger and hatred towards the humans who had killed his lover. Who had destroyed his happiness. Elves were not a revengeful peoples, but when angered they could be horrible to behold. This ancient grain of fury now grew to immeasurable proportions inside of Legolas' heart, and his blood thrummed with the wish to revenge Aragorn. In the most bloody and cruel way imaginable. Valar, he wanted to rip those bastards' hearts out and let them bleed to death while he watched them draw their last, miserable breath.

But ah, Legolas knew that he would not do that; Aragorn would not have wanted that, no matter what those humans had done to him. Ever had Aragorn possessed a gentle heart, full of compassion and understanding for those who had strayed from the path of the righteous. He would not have wanted that Legolas lost himself in a revenge driven slaughter.

But Valar help him, if he came across one of Aragorn's murderers and it came to a fight, he would not hesitate to defend himself. And if one of them got hurt, all the better.

The water of the lake was icy, despite the sun that shown down on it, and when Legolas reached the ship of the ruffians, his limbs felt heavy from the cold that had settled in his bones. But the icy water cleared his mind and sharpened his senses; Legolas felt more than ready should he be attacked. While he silently swam forwards, keeping to the shadows of the rocks, Legolas almost wished for one of the men to appear; his fingers itched from the anger that had slowly bubbled up inside of him from the moment he had entered the water.

But alas, the stony beach was empty, as was the deck of the ship. But it was apparent that the three men were still around and preparing to leave the caves. Wooden crates stood on the beach, lamps, canvas and some barrels had been deposited next to the gangplank, ready to be loaded onto the ship. For a moment Legolas pondered whether he should wait until the men were gone before he began his search of Aragorn, but he quickly dismissed the thought. He was an accomplished warrior and he had taken on bands of orcs and wargs, once even a mighty troll. He had nothing to fear from these humans and he would not hide from them.

So, he left the water and swiftly made his way over the tiny stones towards the rock formation. Pressing his body against the dark stone and gripping his two knives, Legolas waited for a moment, listening. At first he could hear nothing but the rush of the waves on the stones and the sounds of nature around him; the wind on the water, the screeching of the gulls, and the rustling of the plants that clung to the rocks. Focusing on his immediate surroundings, the sound of nature drifted away to be replaced by the sound of the water dripping from his clothing, his own breathing and the rush of blood in his ears. Turning his attention towards the small crevice in the rocks that led inside the cave, Legolas tuned these sounds out as well and focused on the sounds that came from within the cave. First, he heard nothing, and he began to assume that the cave was empty. But then the soft hum of voices reached his ears, and they became stronger with each passing second.

Legolas' eyes narrowed and the grip on his knives turned deadly. He heard the voices of two men, their heavy footsteps nearing the opening of the cave. Should he flee and hide and slip inside the cave once they were gone, or stay and fight them? Before he could decide, though, Rory exited the cave, closely followed by Nibs, who carried what looked like a very heavy crate in his arms. A cloud chose that moment to hide the sun, and the beach was turned into a mosaic of light and shadow. Taking a deep breath, Legolas finally decided that fighting these two men right now would not change his situation any; their death would not bring Aragorn back, it would be murder to kill two defenseless humans. No, he would find Aragorn, then make sure that these ruffians would not be able to flee, and then hand them over to the authorities of Lake-town. He was just to silently slip into the cave, when Rory turned his head and looked over his shoulder back at the cave. When he caught sight of Legolas, his eyes widened in surprise and an alarmed yell left his lips. Faster than Legolas had thought him able, Rory reached behind him and drew a long, thin dagger.

Abandoning all thoughts of stealth, Legolas righted himself to his full height and lifted his chin. His muscles tensed and within seconds he was in full battle mode. With his eyes gleaming dangerously, he stepped away from the rock formation. These men were responsible for Aragorn's death, and Legolas would not hesitate to kill them in the upcoming battle.

Tightening his grip on his dagger, Rory took a step forwards, but then hesitated. His eyes glanced at Legolas' twin knives, and his face paled somewhat, but he did not back away. Instead, he shouted at his companion, "Put that bloody crate down and come here!"

Startled, Nibs jumped and nearly lost his hold on the heavy crate. His large eyes flickered from Rory to Legolas, his face whiter than the foam on the waves. Clearly unsure what to do, Nibs took a few steps backwards, away from to two fighters. Rory yelled at him, furious, "You cowardly bastard, fight like a man. Come here, NOW!" Flushing a deep red, Nibs took a hesitant step into Rory's direction, but then stopped once more, clearly afraid of Legolas and unwilling to fight him. His face was troubled and his mouth opened and closed in silent speech; he simply did not know what to do.

When it became clear to Rory that his companion would not stand by his side in this fight, Rory grunted in anger and frustration, before he flung himself at Legolas. His arm lifted and his dagger described a wild arc through the air, the blade glimmering in the sunshine. Sidestepping the attack with ease, Legolas slammed the hilt of one of his knives into Rory's side. The tall man stumbled and grunted in pain, but he did not fall. He staggered a few feet, then turned and attacked once more.

Legolas dodged his blow and landed a fierce kick against the human's shin, causing Rory to fall to his knees. But he was quick to rise again, his anger fuelled by the humiliation of having been brought to his knees. With a snarl, Rory flipped the dagger from his right to his left hand and back. "I will slice you up feet to head, elf."

This merely elicited a snort from Legolas; this man was no match for him. "Then try, human, and still you will fail miserably." Enraged, Rory advanced. His dagger cut through the air in wild swings, but Legolas agilely dodged blow after blow. By now, the human panted and sweat rolled down his brow. When Rory stumbled on the stones, his unprotected back towards his opponent, Legolas decided that it was time to end the fight. With a movement too swift for human eyes to follow, he stepped up towards Rory, kicked his feet out from under him and brought the hilt of his knife down on the back of his head. The man sagged to the ground without so much as a sound. Relieving Rory of his dagger, Legolas threw the weapon into the water, where it could do no more harm. Towering over the unconscious form of the human, Legolas suddenly heard a sound from behind him.

Turning, he saw how the other man, Nibs, slowly lowered the heavy crate to the ground; the man had been so immersed in the fight that he had all but forgotten about it. Now he stood at the edge of the water, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, unsure what to do.

Unnoticed by both, a shadow on the deck of the ship crept towards the railing and lifted a crossbow. The sun reflected from the sharp silver point of the thick arrow that rested on the weapon, ready to be released in a deadly flight. Slowly, but with determination, the tip of the weapon focused on Legolas. The moment the sun bathed the beach into bright light, Madoc released the trigger and the arrow shot away with murderous intent.

--oOo--

Coldness was the first thing Aragorn registered when he regained consciousness. His whole body seemed to be caught in a snowdrift or a block of ice, so cold did he feel. Trembling, Aragorn tried to pry his eyes open, and when he finally managed this feat, he thought for a moment that he was blind. There was nothing but darkness around him, not the slightest shimmer of light. Or was there? Blinking, he turned his head to the side.

It was a huge mistake.

The moment he moved his head, white hot pain exploded behind his forehead, washing over him in a wave of blinding agony. His breath caught in his throat and his stomach began to roll with nausea. Trying to stay completely still and to breathe in small, measured movements, Aragorn waited for this agony to end. Slowly, after what seemed like an eternity to him, the pain reduced to a very painful throbbing in the right part of his skull, its centre somewhere above his right ear and close to his temple. When he was almost certain that he would not pass out, Aragorn once more opened his eyes and gingerly lifted his hand to touch his head.

It hurt, greatly, but after a few tentative tries, Aragorn thought that his skull was maybe bruised, but not cracked. But the skin was cut and the side of his head badly swollen. He could smell the coppery scent of blood on his fingers when he withdrew them, although he could not see them in the darkness. Valar, with an injury like that, it was a miracle that he was still alive.

Come to think of it, Aragorn wondered how it came that he was indeed alive. Had he not been trapped in the tunnel, with the iron door closed and himself surrounded by nothing but water? For a moment he could not explain his survival, but then the memory of the retreating water came to him. Somehow the water in the tunnel had been sucked back, taking him with it. And that could only mean that he had been washed back into the cave, where he and Legolas had been trapped. And Legolas was somewhere outside, thinking him dead.

How horrible it must be for Legolas to think him dead! What must it have done to the gentle Prince to see him caught in the tunnel? Surely Legolas would hold himself responsible for his _death_.

Aragorn could not suppress the feeling that Legolas would do something stupid, something rash that he would probably regret later. It was paramount that he got out of this cave and find Legolas, before the elf either faded from grief or went on a revenge trip that would probably get him injured or killed. He knew him well enough to know that Legolas would not let those men get away with murder.

And anyway, he needed to leave this cave as soon as possible. If the ruffians noticed that he was not dead and that Legolas had escaped their clutches, surely they would try to end what they had begun.

If only his head would not hurt that much… Taking a deep breath, Aragorn steeled himself for getting to his feet. When he slowly turned onto his side, his head bombarded him with hot pain, and he stayed still until the worst had passed. Only then did he tentatively bring his arms under his body and slowly push away from the wet ground. The movement was almost enough to push him back into unconsciousness. His head hammered with a blinding pain and his stomach rolled with nausea. But that were not the only pains to assault him; his right wrist sagged away under his weight, a sharp pain lancing through his arm. His chest hurt, too, and Aragorn knew that the rib that had been badly bruised the day before, was now definitely broken. At least his legs seemed unhurt, although he could not be sure, because they hurt, too. He had cut his skin on the sharp rocks in the tunnel, and sustained more bruises and abrasions than was healthy.

When the worst of the pain receded to an almost bearable level, Aragorn finally climbed to his feet. He swayed dangerously for a moment and feared to fall back to the floor, but he managed to regain his balance. Opening the eyes he had not noticed closing, he glanced around. He was not surprised to find that the darkness was not complete. Once his eyes accustomed to the blackness, he could make out a streak of light to his left, probably coming from the door that led to the tunnel system.

Reaching the door took more of his strength than he had thought, and when he finally wearily leaned around the metal door, he felt cold sweat on his forehead. With dark humor Aragorn hoped that none of the ruffians would find him thus, for he would be easy prey for even a squirrel should the animal decide to attack him.

When he was reasonably sure that there was no one on the other side of the door, Aragorn pushed it open and squeezed through. There were no torches in the brackets at the walls, but light was coming from the tunnel that led to the upper caves. Slowly, his ears strained for sounds of his kidnappers and would-be murderers, Aragorn turned left and entered the tunnel that would take him out of this accursed mountain.

Climbing up the passageway was taking Aragorn more time than he had ever thought imaginable. But his head hurt with a vengeance and his broken rib ached with every step he took. Not to mention that he was still wet and freezing in the cold air of the tunnel. His teeth were not chattering, but waves of shivers assaulted his body, and he wished for nothing more than warm clothing and something hot to drink. If only he could be sure to be alone in the cave system, but alas, more than once he was forced to hide in a cave, because he had seen shadowy movements up ahead, or heard the unmistakable sound of voices. Apparently, the ruffians were still here.

When he had first heard the men, he had pondered whether he should not hide somewhere, rest and wait until the men were gone. But he had quickly dismissed the thought. He was cold and hurt and needed treatment as well as a secure place to rest. Neither could be had in this mountain. And maybe even more importantly, Legolas was out there, alone and hurting, mourning his death, and that was a thought Aragorn could not bear. He wanted to find Legolas and hold him, to reassure him that he was not dead. There was no telling what Legolas would now do. Aragorn did not even put it beside him to rapidly fade from grief, although he hoped that Legolas had the strength to carry on.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Aragorn finally reached the upper level of the cave system. Hiding behind a few crates that seemed to be filled with cloths of some sort, he listened for the sounds of the ruffians. He did not have to wait long. From the left, the deep voice of Rory gave orders to the red haired man Nibs, who seemed to complain about something and was subdued by the older man. While Aragorn listened and waited, slowly regaining some of his strength and cursing the painful pounding of his head, Rory placed a heavy crate in Nibs' arms before he headed towards the cleft in the rock that led to the beach. Aragorn heard Nibs' footsteps follow him, and soon the voices and sounds of the two men grew softer, until they vanished altogether.

Aragorn waited for a few more minutes, before he pushed away from the crates and followed the two men from Lake-town. Keeping close to the wall and tense like a bowstring, Aragorn neared the exit of the mountain. What if the men were still on the beach or even on their way back inside the cave? Aragorn had no illusions about what would happen then; he was too weak to get away quickly enough to hide. But all thoughts of his own predicament fled his mind when the unmistakable sound of fighting reached his ears. For a moment he hesitated, but then hastened through the small tunnel as quickly as his aching legs would carry him. There was only one person he knew who had reason to fight those men, and that was Legolas!

Aragorn reached the mouth of the passageway and was blinded by the sunlight sparkling on the water of the lake. The moment his eyes adjusted to the light, his eyes widened in shock. A warning yell left his lips before he even knew what he was doing.

"LEGOLAS! BEHIND YOU!"

--oOo--

Legolas reacted instinctively to the warning call. Faster than any human could ever dream to move, he dived to the side and for the ground. Not a second too soon. Only a fraction after his dive, a thick arrow drilled into the pebble strewn ground a few feet away; had Legolas not moved out of the way the arrow would have hit him full in the chest, probably killing him on the spot. A harsh curse reached his ears, and Legolas knew that it had been Madoc who had shot the arrow at him. The man must be standing on the deck of the ship, and Legolas would not give him another chance to aim at him. With agility inborn in elves, he jumped to his feet and sprinted into the water towards the boat. He pressed his back against its hull, effectively hiding from any more arrows that Madoc might aim at him.

The moment he reached the ship, the next arrow sailed through the air with a deadly whistle. Legolas ducked instinctively, but realized a second later that he arrow was not aimed at him, but at the beach. It was aimed at … Aragorn! With wide eyes Legolas stared at the figure standing at the opening of the tunnel, only now realizing that it had not been Nibs who had called his name, but Aragorn.

"Estel…" The name left his lips in a whisper, soon to be followed by a scream, "Estel!" But he need not have warned his young lover, for Aragorn had seen the arrow and threw himself to the ground, then scrambled for cover behind some black rocks.

Legolas was shocked; thousand of thoughts raced through his mind, and his emotions wanted to overwhelm him. Aragorn was alive…he was alive…alive… How was that possible? How could he have survived that trap of water and stone? Legolas could find to solution to that riddle, and he was overcome with the urge to go to Aragorn and hold him, to feel for himself that he had not imagined him. He had already made a step into Aragorn's direction, when another arrow whistled through the air. It ricocheted off the rocks Aragorn hid behind, and was followed by another curse.

The surprise that Legolas felt upon seeing his lover alive was instantly replaced by his anger. An intense feeling of protectiveness towards Aragorn washed over him, and before he could consciously decide so, Legolas swung onto the gangplank and rushed onto the deck of the ship, his twin knives drawn and ready.

Madoc, seeing him coming towards him, lifted the bow to shoot him, but Legolas was faster. With a quick blow at Madoc's arms he catapulted the crossbow out of the man's hands so that it skidded across the deck and out of Madoc's reach. However, the loss of his crossbow did not discourage Madoc, and with a yell and a wild swing of his arm at Legolas, he jumped out of the elf's reach. Legolas followed, but when he next reached Madoc, the bearded man had drawn a short sword, which he held with both hands in front of his body. The man's eyes gleamed in a maniac light and he bared his teeth.

"You are not dead, then." He ground out, brandishing his weapon. "What a shame. You would have made a perfect body. But no matter, I will remedy that soon enough."

Feeling his blood boil at those words, Legolas snorted, "You tried to kill me twice now, and still I live. You will fail another time should you try."

Laughing shrilly, Madoc shook his head, "I nearly killed that ranger. He was dead enough when I saw him. I will first kill you and then finish that whelp of a man ere your blood has dried on my blade."

Never leaving Madoc out of his sight, Legolas began to circle the man, his knives at the ready and his body tensed for the upcoming fight, "I give you one chance to surrender. Lay down your weapon and kneel on the deck with your hands behind your back, and I will _maybe_ spare you." Legolas meant what he said, although he knew that Madoc would never surrender, not in a million years.

"Never, elf!" The man spat, just as Legolas had thought he would. What Legolas had not thought, though, was that he man would be stupid enough to attack him. But that was exactly what Madoc did. With an animalistic howl the human raised his sword high above his head, swung the blade and advanced on Legolas. Surprised by the attack but not startled, Legolas swiftly parried the blow, then another and another. Slowly, Madoc drove Legolas across the ship. His blows were strong, his aim good, and his determination to kill Legolas was making him even stronger. But his craziness was making him incautious.

Once more he lifted his sword high above his head to split Legolas' skull, a mad howl leaving his lips. Ducking the wild blow, Legolas lifted his own knives. Madoc's hasty blow had left his whole chest unprotected, and Legolas used the advantage. The deadly sharp steel of his knives easily cut through leather, cloth and skin, drawing thick red blood. Screaming in pain and surprise, Madoc stumbled back, his left arm holding his chest, from which red blood spurted onto the wooden planks.

A grimace of pain and confusion crossed the man's features as he stared at the blood that matted his clothing and dripped onto the deck. Slowly, he lifted his head and his eyes bore into Legolas' blue orbs. Madness glimmered in their depths, and his face quickly turned into a horrible mask of fury. Before Legolas' eyes, the last sensitive thought left the human, and Madoc turned into a fury driven, crazy lunatic. With blood running down his front and spittle flying from his mouth, Madoc shrieked and attacked once more.

Legolas parried blow after blow and dealt his own, but although Madoc was now bleeding out of numerous cuts and should by right be writhing on the ground in agony, the man did not seem to feel the pain his injuries caused him. He swung his sword and tried to punch Legolas, and it was all the elf could do to evade the wild blows and try to get in one himself. Madoc drove him across the deck, his untrained, wild and hectic swings making it difficult for Legolas to determine his next moves. Legolas had just decided that enough was enough and that he would have to do something soon or the fight would never end, something happened that Legolas had not anticipated, either.

A shadow appeared on the deck, and a moment later Aragorn appeared at the top of the gangplank, using the railing for support and shielding his eyes against the glaring sun. His searching eyes immediately locked on the combatants, and when he saw that Madoc had corned Legolas against the other side of the ship, he made as if to step onto the deck to enter the fight himself – armed or not.

Fear coursed through Legolas' veins at the sight of his obviously injured young lover entering the battle just to help him, and he called a warning to stay away. Madoc was insane, now more than ever, and in his weakened state Aragorn would never be able to overpower him. His moment of inattention was all Madoc needed. With a howl of triumph he swung his sword at Legolas' head, aiming to behead him. In the last possible moment Legolas threw his body back, colliding with the wooden railing and feeling himself lose his balance. The blade that was meant to kill him missed his head, but it cut painfully into his shoulder, tearing skin and muscle. Blood oozed from the wound and Legolas felt his left knife drop to the ground.

"LEGOLAS!" Aragorn's worried yell echoed over the ship, and while Legolas watched - half hanging over the railing and nearly toppling overboard - Madoc slowly turned and his mad eyes fixed on Aragorn. The gleam in his eyes seemed to deepen and a sneer appeared on his face. Without so much as a glance back at Legolas, Madoc lifted his now bloodied sword and advanced on Aragorn – who was weakened, injured and weaponless.

The picture unfolded in front of Legolas' eyes and he could already see the final scene. With Aragorn spread on the ground, dead, and Madoc standing above him, cackling in mad victory. This must not happen! His veins seemed to fill with hot iron and his vision sharpened. With a cry of his own, Legolas pushed away from the railing, and as soon as his feet found the ground he sped away after Madoc. By now the human had nearly reached Aragorn, who was retreating quickly, knowing that he would not stand a chance against Madoc.

Once more, it was a race against time, but Legolas was determined that he would win this time. With elven speed driven to its limits, he sped across the deck. When Aragorn's back hit the railing and Madoc raised his sword for the killing blow, Legolas propelled himself forwards. For one shocking moment he thought that he was too late. Madoc's sword descended upon Aragorn's unprotected head, the ranger's eyes wide with fear. And then, Legolas' knife sliced deep into Madoc's back, right past the spine and into his heart. The man tensed, gasped and then fell to the ground without another sound. The sword dropped to the ground with a clatter, next to the dead man's body. Madoc was dead before his body hit the planks.

Panting, Legolas stared at the body at his feet, as if the man would rise any moment to attack anew. But Madoc was dead, and the puddle of blood that slowly seeped from under his body was proof enough. It was over.

"Legolas, you're bleeding." It was Aragorn's concerned voice that made him lift his head. His blue eyes still sparkled with the rush of the battle and his blood pulsed hotly through his veins, but all that was instantly drowned by the wave of relief and happiness that surged through his every cell. It had been no dream, no illusion. Aragorn was alive and he was standing here in front of him.

"Estel! You live !" Legolas swiftly stepped over the body to wrap his arms around his young lover. "How is that possible? Oh, I thank the Valar for this miracle. Estel, I thought that I had lost you. The tunnel…all the water…and then the door…I couldn't reach you…I…" He knew that he was rambling, but he could not stop. To hold Aragorn in his arms again, to feel his warmth and smell his unique scent, it was the most glorious feeling in the world.

For a while they simply held each other, reveling in the certitude that they were both alive and that evil had been conquered once more. Or was it…

"Uhm, excuse me?"

At the timid voice from the gangplank, Legolas quickly released Aragorn. In one fluid motion he stepped in front of the ranger in a protective gesture and lifted his knife, ready to face whatever new menace awaited them.

But it was no menace, only the red haired man Nibs, who rather shyly stood at the gangplank, his eyes wide as he took in the body of Madoc. "Is he dead?"

"I should think so." Legolas said, his eyes never leaving Nibs' face. At his words, the red haired man seemed to sag a little, but he did not seem surprised or grieved. Instead, he lifted his eyes towards Legolas', "And now? What will happen to me?"

"That depends on you, human." Legolas lowered his knife only a fraction, although he did not expect an attack from this man. Since their first encounter Nibs had been the most reserved of the ruffians, had never threatened them or even lifted a weapon against them. And Legolas had not forgotten that he had not helped his comrades in fighting him. "You have two options now. You can either fight us and die like your comrade here or lie unconscious at our feet as your comrade on the beach, or you can leave now and never come back to this region."

Perplexed, Nibs blinked a few times, then nodded once. Without another word he left the ship, climbed into the small vessel that was attached to it and rowed away as fast as he could. Beside Legolas, Aragorn watched as the small vessel became smaller and smaller until he could no longer see it. He knew not why Legolas had let this man go, but he trusted his friend and his judgment. When Legolas thought that this man should go free, then so be it. And truly, Nibs had never hurt him, had even seemed to detest the ways of his companions. Maybe the man would be able to start a life away from theft and murder, now that he was freed of his '_friends_'.

With Madoc dead and Nibs somewhere in the middle of the Long-lake, there was only Rory left to take care of. After applying a hasty bandage on Legolas' shoulder to stop the bleeding, they bound the unconscious man securely and then brought him back inside the cave. They deposited him inside one of the smaller caves, closed the door and barricaded it, so that the man would not be able to escape, even if he managed to free himself of his bonds. As soon as Legolas and Aragorn were back in Lake-town, they would inform the Town-keepers to come and arrest him. Until then, he could stew in his own misery. They next wrapped Madoc's body in a sheet they found in the caves and carried him inside the tunnel system and laid him down in another of the smaller caves. There was nothing else they could do.

Once Rory and Madoc were stowed away safely, Legolas and Aragorn exited the caves as quickly as possible. They had stayed long enough in the dark, confined tunnel system, and both longed for the fresh air and the warm sun. They sat down on the stony beach, their faces turned to the sun, and they bathed in its warmth. But not for long, for Legolas' shoulder needed treatment, as did Aragorn's various injuries.

With the supplies they found in the cave and on the ship, they treated their injuries and bound them. The cut Madoc had dealt Legolas was long and deep and required stitches, but Legolas' elven healing abilities had already kicked in. The wound had stopped bleeding and would soon heal. He would retain no lasting damage, not even a scar, as such is the nature of elves. The cuts on his arms he had sustained the other day in the tunnel were deep, but the water of the lake had cleaned them sufficiently, and Aragorn merely bound them and both hoped that they would heal on their own.

Aragorn's injuries, however, took far longer to treat. He had sustained numerous abrasions and bruises which they could only clean but not treat, as they had found no salves or herbs from which to make a poultice. His rib was indeed broken and Legolas bound it tightly, so that it would not be jostled too much and cause even more damage. Luckily, his wrist had only been aggravated, but it was not broken. Aragorn could flex his fingers and twist his wrist to the right and left and it hurt terribly, but given time this injury would heal. What had Legolas more worried was the injury to his head.

The skin right above Aragorn's ear was tight and swollen, and when Legolas parted Aragorn's dark hair, he saw that the skin was a dark shade of purple and black. A mean cut marred the skin, looking very painful. Even the most gentle of Legolas' touched caused the cut to bleed afresh, and Aragorn to flinch in pain and instinctively jerk his head out of the elf's grip. It was a serious injury, and Legolas worried that Aragorn had sustained a concussion, if not a cracked skull. He cleaned the wound as best he could, trying to be gentle, but when he was finished, Aragorn was white as a sheet and sweat stood on his brow. His breath came in short gasps, and he had wrapped his fingers so tightly around themselves that his nails had left small impressions inside his palms.

"I'm sorry to cause you pain, my friend, but that wound needed cleaning or it could get infected." Legolas apologized as he sat down beside Aragorn, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

Sighing, Aragorn tentatively lifted his head, wincing as his head pounded at even this small movement. "I know, Legolas. And it is not your fault. I'm only glad that the wound is not more dangerous. You'll see, I will be fine in no time." He smiled from under his dark lashes, and Legolas felt his heart beat faster in his chest.

They had come so close to losing each other, so close to being parted forever. Even now, sitting beside his lover and talking to him, Legolas felt the icy fingers of fear clutch at his heart. His emotions must have been visible on his face, for Aragorn suddenly frowned and leaned closer, "Legolas, are you well? You look as if you have just walked across a grave."

"I was just thinking…" He mumbled, not ready to share his fears with Aragorn. Not yet, anyway, when they had just found each other again. And besides, one look at Aragorn's pale face and wince of pain every time he moved told Legolas that now was not the time for long talks. They had enough time for that later. So he smiled and shook his head, "It is nothing, Estel. Come here." And he reached out and wrapped his arm around Aragorn's shoulder, pulling him ever so gently against his side. Aragorn did not resist, and let himself be embraced by Legolas' strong arms. The elf lowered them both to the ground, with Aragorn's aching head resting on his shoulder and the injured wrist on the elf's chest.

Sighing in contentment, Aragorn closed his eyes and relaxed against Legolas. For a moment they simply enjoyed the silence, but then Legolas' curiosity won out. "How did you survive, Estel? What happened down there in the tunnel?"

And Aragorn told him all about the retreat of the water, the force of the eddies, and the small suck of air he had been able to suck into his lungs. Legolas listened with bated breath, once more sending a prayer of thanks to the Valar for watching over his young lover. Then it was Legolas' turn to explain, and he told Aragorn about how he had swum to the beach, and then returned to reclaim Aragorn's body. He also told him about the fight with Rory that Aragorn had missed, as well as the fact that the man Nibs had refused to help his companion, and that this had been the reason why Legolas had decided to spare him. Once everything had been told, they lay in companionable silence.

Relishing the feeling of Aragorn's warm body beside him, Legolas let his fingers brush across Aragorn's back in soothing strokes. He was not surprised when the man's soft lips found the tender skin of his neck, kissing him gently. With a happy sigh, Legolas turned his head, and their lips met in a sweet kiss, which soon turned passionate. Wanting to feel Aragorn, to taste him, Legolas pushed his tongue against the young man's lips, and Aragorn only too willingly invited him inside his mouth. Legolas explored with his tongue, licking and sucking, and he soon felt the rest of his body come to life. Warmth spread in his stomach and centered under his belt, urging him onwards. Without breaking the kiss, Legolas let his hands wander lower, until they came to rest on Aragorn's firm behind. The man groaned deep in his throat and pressed against Legolas' slender form, an all too telling hardness pressing against Legolas' thigh.

But despite his rising desire and his need to feel Aragorn, to be one with him, the rational part of Legolas had not forgotten the injuries his young lover had sustained just the other day. Reluctantly, Legolas withdrew his hands and slowed the kiss. When their lips parted, Aragorn sighed in regret and snuggled closer. He knew why Legolas had stopped, and if he was honest with himself, he was really not up to making love just yet . His head hurt terribly, pounding in the rhythm of his heartbeat, making him slightly dizzy and nauseous. Contenting himself with one last, lingering kiss to Legolas' soft lips, Aragorn placed his weary head down on the strong shoulder and once more closed his eyes. Legolas' arms tightened around his shoulders, and he held him securely in his embrace.

The sun shone down on them from above, its rays warm and comforting on their skin. A soft breeze stirred their hairs and the gulls screeched overhead in their relentless search for fish. Tired and in pain, Aragorn was soon lulled to sleep by the gentle lapping of the waves across the pebbles, and the reassuring rise and fall of Legolas chest under his fingers.

To be continued.

**One more chapter to go!**


	13. 13 Things to remember

Chapter 13: Things to remember

When Aragorn awoke, he was confused, for he did not know where he was. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep in Legolas' arms, lying on the stony beach. But now he could feel a straw filled mattress under his body, and a pillow under his head. Also, his bed seemed to sway from side to side…Confused, he opened his eyes and blinked around. He was indeed lying in a real bed, in a small wooden room. He could hear the soft palling of water on wood, and realized that he must be on the ruffians' ship. Although, he did not remember coming on the ship at all. He sat up and rubbed his face, happily surprised to note that his head did not hurt as much as it had the day before. He gingerly touched the side of his head, and although the touch hurt, the pain had lessened. Similarly, the swelling seemed to have receded.

While he exited the chamber and climbed up the steep stairs towards the deck, Aragorn smiled at the thought that Legolas must have carried him to bed, so gentle that he had not even awoken. He was truly blessed to have a mate as thoughtful and compassionate and gentle as Legolas. As soon as he opened the door that led to the deck, the sunshine bathed his face in warmth, and the soft breeze ruffled his hair. Had it not been for the knowledge of what had happened to them and why they were at this tiny beach to begin with, Aragorn could have almost enjoyed the tranquility.

Looking around for Legolas, he spotted the elf exit the tunnel system. He carried what looked like long planks on wood on his shoulder, and rope in his free hand. When he saw Aragorn on the deck, he smiled brightly and waved. "Time you woke up, Estel! The day is almost gone."

Surprised that he had slept so long, Aragorn made his way down the gangplank and onto the beach. Legolas had built a small fire, on which two fat fish sizzled in a pan that must have come from the ship. A piece of bread lay next to the fire to roast. It smelled delicious, and Aragorn's stomach rumbled loudly. When had he last eaten anything?

Laughing at the hungry look on Aragorn's face, Legolas threw the planks onto the beach and gestured at the fish, "Alas, they are not ready yet, they need at least another half hour." Sighing in regret, Aragorn made his way over to Legolas. As soon as he reached his side, Legolas reached out and drew him close for a kiss. "How do you feel? You've slept long and I began to worry." His blue eyes searched Aragorn's grey orbs for signs of pain or a concussion, and a tiny frown marred his beautiful features.

"I feel rested, that is for sure." Aragorn laughed, tucking a strand of blond hair behind Legolas' ear. "And I feel good. The pain has receded somewhat, and I neither feel dizzy nor nauseous." He decided that being completely honest with Legolas about his injuries was the quickest way; otherwise Legolas would only pester him with questions until he was satisfied that he had heard the truth from him. "In fact, I feel rather hungry." He shot a longing look at the fish, causing Legolas to give him a joking shove, "They will be done soon enough. Now forget about food for a moment, human-Hobbit, and take a look at my raft."

"Your what?" Aragorn looked down at the wooden planks that Legolas had carried out of the caves and only now realized that there were already many more planks of various sizes lying on the ground. Some of them had been bound together with cord, and Aragorn could see that the raft was almost finished. It was small, barely wide and large enough to carry the two of them, but it looked sturdy. Aragorn was surprised but delighted, "When did you think of this? And when did you _make_ it?"

Grinning like a child that had succeeded in something very difficult, Legolas sat down and began to place the new planks beside the ones already attached to the raft. "After you fell asleep I had time to think. Nibs has taken the only vessel there was, and with but the two of us we cannot sail the ship. Not to mention that neither you nor I _know_ how to sail a ship." He looked up at Aragorn and squinted in the bright sunlight, "And with your injuries, you cannot swim to the shore. And then I saw all the wooden crates stashed on the deck and in the caves. A raft was the only thing I could think of." He got down on his knees, causing the white stones to tinkle softly, and resumed his work and shrugged his shoulders dismissively, "Once you begin, it is easy work. The raft will be finished tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest. And then we can leave this place for good and return to Lake-town. To be honest I will not regret having to leave this beach, although it is rather beautiful here."

Not knowing what to say, Aragorn crouched down beside the elf. Not only had Legolas taken care of him while he had slept the day away, but also had he thought of a way to get away from this place and already begun with building a raft. Legolas' thoughtfulness touched him deeply, and before he knew what he was doing, he took hold of Legolas' hands and kissed them, one after the other. "Legolas, you are more than I could ever have wished for in a friend…and lover." Their eyes met, and instantly their passion of the day before rose in them. Their lips met in a searing kiss, and within a minute they were lying on the half finished raft, kissing and touching.

Aragorn soon found himself covered by Legolas' pliant body, the elf's lips tracing a scorching path down his neck and upper body. Nimble fingers undid his tunic and shirt, and hot kisses burned his chest. When Legolas took one of his roseate nipples inside his mouth, Aragorn arched his back in pleasure. His nipple hardened instantly and Legolas lightly scratched his teeth against it, causing Aragorn to moan deep in his throat. After bestowing the same lovely treatment to Aragorn's other nipple, Legolas moved downwards. He gently kissed the bandage that wound around the broken rib, ever so careful not to aggravate it. His hands followed his pillaging lips, and when his fingers teasingly tucked at the strings that held Aragorn's breeches closed, Aragorn felt heat boil in his nether regions. Pounding, his shaft awoke to lustful life, and he groaned once more, lifting his hips in invitation.

Without hesitation, Legolas undid Aragorn's breeches and pulled the fabric down. While his lips returned the way they had come, burning Aragorn's chest with kisses, his long fingers found their way into the dark curls between Aragorn's legs, until they finally, gloriously, tightened around his pounding flesh. Throwing his hands around Legolas' slender shoulders and pulling him closer, Aragorn moaned in pure pleasure and lifted his hips into Legolas' hands, wanting, needing more. But Legolas took his time.

Ridding himself of his clothing and pulling off Aragorn's remaining garments, Legolas blanketed him with his slender body, relishing the feel of skin on skin. His own length was pounding with desire, but he would not satisfy this desire just yet. With the sun warming his back, Legolas mapped Aragorn's chest and neck with fiery kisses, enjoying the sighs his wicked tongue elicited from his willing victim. But when Aragorn wrapped his arms around his body and started his own perusal of it, Legolas was hard pressed not to give in to his needs. He wanted this to last, to make this memorable.

Capturing Aragorn's warm lips in a devouring kiss, Legolas reached down and began to stroke the man's length. He felt the thick veins pulsate with want, and before Aragorn could protest, he broke the kiss, moved down and enveloped the turgid flesh with his wet lips. Aragorn quivered under him, his back ached away from the ground, and his flailing hands sought for something to anchor him. When Legolas slid his lips down until nose touched the man's stomach, Aragorn groaned deep and his hands tangled in Legolas' blond tresses.

"Legolas…" he whispered brokenly, his eyes closed tightly in pleasure. Squeezing him, sliding his tongue up and down the pulsing length, Legolas felt his own need grow to immeasurable heights; And he felt that Aragorn was close to breaking, too. The man moaned and writhed on the ground, trembling with the urge to find his release, but unwilling to let go just yet. With a wicked lick of his tongue, Legolas released Aragorn, and crawled up to look at his face. Panting, cheeks flushed in a lovely shade of pink, Aragorn gazed at his blue orbs, "Legolas, don't leave me like this, please." He shifted his hips and pressed up against him, his arms on Legolas' hips.

A groan fell from elvish lips at the softly spoken plea, and Legolas felt his body sink down on its own accord. Their hips met in a searing dance, and had it not been for his desire to be taken, and not to take today, Legolas would have taken Aragorn there and then in one ravaging thrust. Instead, he placed a hot kiss on Aragorn's swollen lips, and moved to astraddle Aragorn, much to the young man's surprise.

Blue eyes met confused grey, "Take me, Estel, my love." Legolas groaned, locking his gaze with Aragorn's. "I want to feel you inside me."

It was not often that Legolas asked Aragorn to take him, for it was usually the elf who took on that role. It was not that Legolas did resent to be bedded, but it was just their usual way of doing things that Aragorn yielded to the Prince's desire. But not this time, and the rotating movements of Legolas' hips were all the incentive Aragorn needed. His hands began to stroke Legolas' strong thighs, up his stomach and down his back, sun-kissed skin on marble white, and Legolas sighed in pleasure.

Soon, Aragorn could no longer resist the pounding flesh that stood out so proudly, and his fingers closed around the elvish length and squeezed it tightly. A moan left Legolas' lips and he pressed down, his knees on either side of Aragorn's hips, "Estel, please, don't tease me. Please, take me now."

With a barely suppressed growl, Aragorn moved his hands behind Legolas, who lifted himself up. Aragorn thoroughly prepared his lover, before he positioned the elf right above his impressive member. Their eyes met in a hot gaze, before Legolas slowly lowered himself, spearing his warm passage on Aragorn's thick heat. A feral moan rendered the air and Legolas threw his head back, so that his long tresses fell across his back like liquid gold. He lifted and lowered his hips in a slow dance, relishing the feeling of being filled so completely.

Groaning, Aragorn watched as his lover speared himself again and again on his length, mesmerized by the play of light and shadow and the ripple of muscles under the smooth skin. His member ached and pounded in Legolas' wet passage, and Aragorn could not help but meet every lustful press of Legolas' hips with his own upwards thrust. Soon, his hands took hold of Legolas sinful member and stroked it in rhythm of their coupling.

Legolas rode Aragorn until he could take it no more. The pleasure built inside of him like a tidal wave he could not control, and when he felt his release nearing, he lifted himself up so far that he almost freed himself of Aragorn's shaft, before he sank down hard. Aragorn slid even deeper inside his channel, filling him with pulsing heat. It was too much for Legolas to bear, and with a lustful shudder he found his release, crying out Aragorn's name.

Under him, Aragorn watched as his lover found his release, warm liquid spurting from between his fingers. Legolas' wet channel contracted around him, sucking him deeper and scorching him with heat. With a last powerful thrust Aragorn came to completion, his own hot seed shooting into Legolas' body, who still writhed above him in the throes of passion.

Afterwards, they lay side by side in the warm sunshine, bathing in the afterglow of their passion. It was a long time before they got up to wash quickly and dress. By then, the fish had burned to a black mass which they had to regrettably throw away.

They worked on the raft for the rest of the day, and when the sun sank behind the horizon, it was finished. They watched the sunset and the birth of the glimmering stars in the dark sky, and when the moon bathed the tiny beach in silvery light, they loved each other once more, caught in the magic of the night.

At sunrise, they launched the raft, and using thick planks as oars, they slowly made their way towards the shore. The tide sucked them southwards, though, and it took them much longer to reach the shore than they had thought. As soon as they had green grass under their feet, they began the long march back to Lake-town. It was almost dark when they crossed the long bridge into the town, and nearly midnight when the town-keepers threw Rory into a cell in the Castellium. The man had been weak from thirst and hunger when Legolas had shown the town-keepers to his room, but neither Legolas nor Aragorn could find the strength to feel any compassion for him. The man would probably spend a few years in prison. The next morning, the town-keepers would head out to the caves to collect Willie.

When the town-keepers had left with the prisoner, all statements had been given, the inn keeper been placated after finding a handful of town-keepers in his inn, the room been cleaned from the mess that Rory had made during his stay and the windows been thrown open to let in the fresh night air, Aragorn was exhausted. Flopping down on the bed, he threw his arm across his eyes, sighed deeply, and was asleep in mere seconds. Sighing good naturedly, Legolas removed the man's boots, before he lay down beside him on the too small bed. Automatically, Aragorn snuggled up beside him, resting his head on his shoulder and draping his arm across his chest as was his wont. Smiling, Legolas pressed a kiss to the dark curls, before he let his eyes close.

He lay awake for a few more minutes, thinking of the days to come. They had stayed far longer in Esgaroth than they had planned, and it was time to return to Mirkwood. He would have to resume his duties as the Crown Prince and Aragorn would have to return to the rangers. Soon, the rangers would send out the summer patrols, and the men would wander far and wide and not return to The Angle before the first snow fell. Aragorn could not miss his patrol.

A sad smile flickered across Legolas' face; they would not see each other for so long… Aragorn could not return to Mirkwood coming winter, and he – Legolas – could probably not travel to Imladris, given the fact that he would have to run patrols as all the soldiers of Mirkwood did. Furthermore, Aragorn had told him that he would probably spend the winter in the North and not in the elven haven. The fell beasts of the North had gotten bolt last winter, as his cousin Halbarad had reported, and Aragorn wanted to destroy the danger before the creatures could get their numbers up. That did mean that they would not see each other at least for more than a year. For any other elf a year was not such a long time, but for Legolas, it was too long, much too long. He opened his eyes and gazed at his sleeping lover.

Aragorn was so young still, and every time they met again, he was changed. And it were not only the physical changes that surprised Legolas every time anew, but also the changes in his bearing and demeanor. Already the once so open and hilarious young man had vanished, leaving in its place a more secretive, thoughtful man. Now and then, Aragorn's playful nature broke free, but Legolas felt that it was only a matter of time before his responsibilities and ancestry would turn Aragorn into one of the cold, reserved and withdrawn rangers that Legolas had met. Not that it would make any difference to him. He would love Aragorn no matter what, for as long as he lived.

Slowly, Legolas drifted off to sleep, but before his eyes glazed over in elvish sleep, a thought flittered through his mind, and it conjured a smile onto his lips.

-oOo-

It was still early in the morning when the two friends crossed the long bridge, leaving Esgaroth behind them. Their horses, which had been cooped up in a stable for too long, flicked their ears excitedly, swishing their tails and neighing softly. Throwing one last long look at the town, Aragorn climbed into his saddle and patted his horse onto the long neck. When he turned his horse to the South, he was surprised to see that Legolas was already heading towards the North.

"Legolas?"

Turning his head, Legolas threw him a mischievous smile. "There is something I want to do before we leave, Estel. It won't take long."

Curious but suspicious, Aragorn turned his horse and followed his friend. Legolas said no more, but there was a smile on his face, and Aragorn decided to simply wait. When there was something Legolas wanted to do before they left – although Aragorn had not the slightest idea what that might be – then so be it. They rode in companionable silence for a while, enjoying the lush green grass, the clear sky overhead and the warm sun on their faces. The temperatures were already high again after the storm, and if this weather was any indication, then the summer would be hot and dry.

After maybe an hour, they climbed a small hill. The town lay under them and to the East, with its wooden houses and small streets. The sails of the boats reflected in the sun, and the soft screeches of the gulls echoed from below. It was a beautiful sight, peaceful and memorable. Aragorn was mesmerized by the display, and he did not notice that Legolas stopped his horse. It was only when he heard a soft chuckle behind him that he broke out of his thoughts. He stopped his horse and turned, only to see that Legolas had already dismounted and was guiding his horse towards a young tree. Following the elf, Aragorn secured his horse to the tree, too.

Looking around and inhaling deeply, he smiled at the Prince, "So, this was what you wanted to do before we leave? It is really beautiful here, Legolas."

Smiling brightly, Legolas shook his head and came closer, "Nay, this is not what I wanted to do before we leave, Estel." He came to stand beside Aragorn, taking his hand and entwining their fingers. "Don't you remember this place, melethron?"

Confused, Aragorn looked around. It was only then that he spotted the small copse of trees a little ways up the hill. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he remembered the hours he and Legolas had spent here. "Ah, I see." He said, before he let the elf guide him towards the shadow of the trees.

As soon as they entered the shadowy cave, Legolas turned and pressed his lips onto Aragorn's in a sweet kiss. His arms wound around the man's neck, holding him in place, and his body pressed softly against Aragorn's. Their lips moved in a slow dance, before Legolas's tongue sneaked between Aragorn's warm lips to taste the wetness beyond. Uttering a soft moan, Aragorn let Legolas enter him, feeling warmth spread through his body. His hands found the small of the elf's back, and he pulled him flush against his own body. The kiss turned from sweet and gentle to passionate and lustful, and it took them only moments to sink down into the lush grass.

Breaking the kiss, Legolas quickly shrugged out of his tunic and shirt and pulled Aragorn's shirt above his head as well. Then he sunk down, covering Aragorn's body with his own, and turned lovely attention to the young man's roseate nipples. He coaxed them to hardness swiftly, making Aragorn sigh in pleasure. Not to be the only one receiving pleasurable treatment, Aragorn deftly rolled on top of Legolas and traced his lips down the elf's neck, leaving a scorching path behind. Moaning, Legolas arched his neck a little, and Aragorn pressed his lips only every inch of skin available. He paid lovely treatment to Legolas' sensitive ears, making the elf writhe under him.

"Estel, please stop." Writhing in pleasure, Legolas buried his hands in Aragorn's dark locks, shoving his head away just a fraction. "I want this to last and if you continue this I will spend myself right now." Lifting his head, Aragorn gazed into the blue orbs, which had darkened with lust. Chuckling under his breath, Aragorn leaned down for a last, passionate kiss, but then he did as his lover asked him and back away. Panting, Legolas quickly removed his breeches, then helped Aragorn to pull down his own.

When the last garment fell to the ground, Legolas gazed for a moment lovingly at his lover's naked form. Heat pooled in his groin as his eyes fell on the proudly erect shaft, and he felt his own member harden to an unknown stiffness. Groaning, he reached out and let his long fingers stroke down Aragorn's broad shoulders, across his chest and his slender hips. Instinctively, the young man arched his hips, and that was all the invitation Legolas needed.

Kneeling between Aragorn's legs, Legolas pushed the man's knees apart, opening him to his sight. And what a sight it was! Passion bubbled in Legolas's stomach at the sight of Aragorn's throbbing length, and he quickly leaned down to envelop the thick shaft with is sweet lips. His hands pushed down on the man's hips to keep him in place, before he began to move his head up and down. He felt Aragorn tense under him, his legs shaking with suppressed passion and the building sensations. Legolas swirled his tongue over the head of the erection whenever he could, and every time he did, Aragorn shuddered and tried to buck his hips. Groaning deep in his throat as his own shaft began to thrum mercilessly, Legolas quickened his pace. His teeth scraped the long flesh, making Aragorn call out in pure bliss. It was enough to drive Legolas mad.

Reaching out, Legolas lifted Aragorn's hips from the ground with his strong hands, and before the young man could comprehend the change in position, Legolas entered first one, and then a second finger. He never removed his mouth while he prepared his lover, and he felt that the young man was close to losing his restraint.

"Legolas, please…oh…Legolas…do it now…". Strong hands grabbed his shoulder, and with a strangled grunt Legolas removed his now swollen lips from the pulsing shaft, quickly moved upwards, and then sheathed himself in the oh so tight wet heat in one fluid and powerful thrust. Aragorn arched his back, shouting in surprise and pleasure, and then wrapped his hands around Legolas' shoulders to anchor himself. They loved each other with lustful, powerful thrusts that turned into a heated frenzy soon enough, leaving them both teetering on the edge of completion for many minutes. And then, with a strangled yelp, Aragorn found his release in Legolas' hands, spilling his warm seed between them. Legolas fell over the edge only a few seconds later, calling Aragorn's name and filling his young lover with his silky wetness.

Exhausted, they sank into the grass, panting and trembling in the afterglow of their passion. Legolas had not yet removed himself from his lover, but Aragorn did not seem to care. With his ear resting above the man's heart, Legolas listened to its swift pace becoming slower. A moment later, he felt Aragorn's long fingers stroke his golden tresses, a content sigh leaving his lips. "That was truly amazing, Legolas. I'm glad we came here." He sighed, "I love you, Legolas." The man's voice was still rough from their recent love play.

Sliming, Legolas pressed a soft kiss to the man's shoulder, "Aye, it was amazing. I could do this every day." Pressing another kiss to the man's shoulder, Legolas tightened his hold on him, "I love you too, Estel."

Laughing softly, Aragorn tightened his arms around the Prince, but did not reply. There was no need to. They stayed under the trees for another hour, relishing the peace and quiet, the sense of belonging together, before they returned to their horses and rode South. Neither of them looked back at the small copse of trees where they had spent such sweet hours. But both had made memories that day that they would carry with them for the time, when there would be nothing but memories for them to see them through the loneliness.

They had left Esgaroth far behind them and the sun was nearing the horizon, when Aragorn suddenly snorted and shook his head in amusement, "Well, considering all that has happened, we haven't done so bad."

Confused, Legolas smiled at his friend, "What do you mean?"

Aragorn grinned, "Well, you promised your father that there would be 'no orc hunting, no spider chasing, and no dwarf infuriating'. That makes two out of three."

"Two out of three?" A frown appeared on Legolas' face, but his eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Well, as I recall, you _did_ infuriate a dwarf. Irritate him, anyway."

Snorting, Legolas shook his head, "That's not true. _I_ was irritated by _him_."

"Whatever, Legolas." Aragorn smiled wickedly. "But I am sure your father will be very interested in this part of the story."

"Estel, you won't." Legolas threatened. "It was not _my_ fault that the first person we meet in Esgaroth was a dwarf, or that we had to stay in a dwarven inn. That was _your_ doing. And it was not _my_ fault that I had to keep a ruffian hostage in our room and anger the dwarven inn keeper. That was just bad luck."

Aragorn merely lifted an eyebrow at his friend, "Well, but your father will not believe that." He smiled wickedly, "Maybe it is time he frightens _you_ for a change." And with that said he pressed his knees to his horse's flanks, racing down the path.

"Hey! That is _not_ fair!" Legolas more laughed than called, before he chased after his friend.

Aye, despite everything that had happened, they had both made good, lasting memories on this journey. Memories that they would not forget for as long as they lived.

The End.

**Yes, it is over. I hope you enjoyed it! It was fun writing!!**


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